


Syncopation

by AntarcticBird



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When standing still is not an option, you just have to find a way to keep dancing anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic: Kurt's in his third year at NYADA while Blaine is a high school senior (slight age difference), and Burt is sick. There is angst, but also fluff. I'm still writing this and will be posting the parts as I finish them. It's probably going to be around four or five parts altogether. I just really wanted to put this out there now and share it, I'll try to get the next parts to you quickly as possible.
> 
> Many thanks to Sandy and Emily for reading it over for me!

The instructors have their own changing room. It's sort of set up a bit like a dressing room, backstage, in a theater. It's oddly fitting – but then he doesn't know what else he could have expected at a dance studio owned and run by Mr. and Mr. Berry.

Of course he knows the studio, he's taken lessons here at Berrydance as a kid, but he's never seen this part of the low, one-story building in the fanciest part of Lima. He's never had a reason to. Until now.

He's still not sure that taking this job had been the best or smartest thing to do. He doesn't like asking for favors and no matter what anyone says, it still feels like nepotism. Because now his boss for the next few months is also his best friend's dad and someone who has known him since he was a round-faced, unhappy kid in this dump of a town and honestly, if there had been any other way, any at all...

He'd been so proud when it had taken him all of two weeks to line up an internship in New York for his third year at NYADA, and it had been an interesting one too. A nice little theater off Broadway, mostly hosting kids' theater groups throughout the day; he'd sort of been looking forward to it because he's never really done that kind of work before and he likes a challenge. He also thinks he might have liked working with the kids.

But then that call from his dad, and he'd just known he'd have to find a way, any way to … He hadn't really slept through an entire night for a week before he'd made the decision, worry and fear gnawing away at him until he'd stopped eating, had to remind himself not to skip lunch _again_ just because Rachel was too busy with her new boyfriend to notice.

It had been easier eventually to simply admit to himself what he needed and pick up the phone and call Rachel's dad, an opportunity that had been lined up for him since an hour after he'd told her. Because even when she's distracted he knows she still loves him, and he is grateful for this opportunity. He doesn't like accepting favors, but he just needs to not be several hours away from his family right now.

His dad's just been sick too many times. First his heart, and then cancer, and now his heart _again_ , and Kurt just doesn't dare hope too much … how often can they be lucky? It feels like they've already cheated fate far too many times in too short a time.

In the end there hadn't even really been much of a choice involved, no lengthy decision making process.

Years ago he may have left Lima the second he could and never looked back, but now he needs to be near his dad and if that means spending the next few months in this town, then he'll gladly do it. He just needs to be here until they _know_ , one way or the other.

Now he stands in front of the mirror in the changing room, gives himself a once over, and maybe anyone who doesn't know him won't even notice that he's too pale, that his hair is too flat, that he can't quite make his smile look real even when he should be able to. He has been home for a week and his dad is doing fine so far, it's been good being here again and catching up for real and just having some time to watch TV in the evenings like they used to do sometimes, to talk over dinner and laugh and almost feel like a kid again.

All he can do now is hope that no one will notice how tired he really is. At least it's not like he'll be interacting with a lot of people anyway – it's ballroom for couples and most of them will be old, he supposes. At least that's what Hiram had told him when they'd been discussing his working schedule earlier last week.

Hiram, who just now sticks his head through the door, looking in at him. “Oh, ah, Kurt, there you are. Good. People are starting to arrive, are you ready?”

Kurt smiles at him in the mirror as well as he can, nods, puts on his bravest face. Because yes. He's ready. This is the easy part. This, he can do. It's the entire rest of his life that he's not entirely sure he can deal with right now.

“I'll be right out!”

**

The first couples are trickling into the studio by the time Kurt joins Hiram over by the giant stereo with the floor standing speakers taller than Kurt. He is feeling a little chilly in his tank top and yoga pants but he knows he's going to get warmed up soon.

Or at least, he hopes so. He's really only used to NYADA-level dance classes, he has no idea exactly how much exercise this will actually involve for him as an instructor or if he'll even get to do much more than walk through the couples and correct their hand placement. He just hopes he won't be looking too silly. He hopes he can actually pull this off. He's never been a teacher, and while NYADA has taught him a lot he's well aware that he's not exactly the best dancer in the world.

Then again, he's not here to win any trophies. And he's fairly certain that he's good enough to teach a room full of accountants and real estate agents and some other of the wealthier Lima residents how to waltz.

“Ah, there you are.” Hiram looks up at him distractedly.

“I'm actually not sure what I'm supposed to be doing exactly?” Kurt admits, lifting his shoulders in a little embarrassed shrug.

“Don't worry about it,” Hiram assures him. “I'll do all the teaching for now until you get the hang of it. Just walk around a bit and see if anyone is making any glaring mistakes. This is amateur level and most of them just want to be able to waltz at their golden anniversaries, but it's our responsibility to make sure they don't look entirely foolish doing so.”

“Got it,” Kurt confirms, nods, and turns back to the room, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watches couple after couple file into the room.

Most of them are middle-aged, a few definitely older, and there's even two couples looking to be in their twenties.

“Newly engaged,” Hiram whispers to him as he sees where Kurt is looking. “Practicing for the reception.”

“I see,” Kurt answers, grins. “That's … admirable.”

“I like to think so. Yes.”

Last of all a guy strolls into the room, looking a bit lost … short, high school age, with ridiculous amounts of gel in his hair and outrageous triangular eyebrows that draw together into a worried frown as he scans the room, notices the other people spread out through it.

Kurt is about to ask who that is, when Hiram is already leaving his side, hurrying toward the guy who's still standing by the door in his sweatpants and hoodie, looking like he's not sure he's in the right place.

That's when Kurt recognizes the Dalton emblem on his clothes, smiles to himself. A private school boy. Probably forced to take classes so his parents can take him out to social events where he's going to have to dance with all the daughters of daddy's business partners. Or maybe Dalton actually produces a brand of student who likes to dance, anything is possible, Kurt reminds himself.

“Ah, Blaine,” Hiram calls out and the guy's eyes light up at being recognized. “We spoke on the phone the other day, so glad you could make it!”

“I wasn't sure that this was the right class,” Blaine says, the smile audible in his voice.

“Oh, no, this is the right one,” Hiram says, puts a hand on his shoulder to lead him further into the room and towards the corner where Kurt is standing. “Definitely the right one. Yes. You did say ballroom, didn't you?”

“Well, yeah -” Blaine seems to hesitate, eyes sweeping across the couples in the room, and Kurt almost has to laugh, even if he does feel kind of sorry for him. Because he knows he'd feel awkward if it were him in the guy's position.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Hiram says absentmindedly.

Blaine's eyes find Kurt's and Kurt does his best to offer a welcoming smile. Blaine's lips twitch in the most adorable shy answering smile before he lowers his head and blushes. “Uh. I just didn't know you were supposed to bring a partner.”

“Oh.” Hiram nods. “Yes, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned to you that most people do indeed sign up together – But not to worry, I know that Mr. Vogel is going to be late tonight, so you can dance with his wife for the first half hour or so -” he waves his right hand at a tall and stern-looking lady who looks about fifty, standing off to the side all by herself, “and after that, I'm sure Kurt here will be glad to help you out.”

Kurt feels himself pale a bit, but keeps his smile on, doesn't want to make Blaine, who is blinking shyly up at him from under impossibly thick lashes, even more uncomfortable. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Absolutely.”

He doesn't actually want to. He's here as an assistant. He's meant to be helping with the teaching. Also, he's going to make a fool of himself because he's going to have to dance the female part and he's never done that before and he's only just learned some of those dances the right way around, he'll get his feet all tangled up and fall on his face. In front of people.

“Thank you,” Blaine says, and he looks grateful and a little less uncomfortable and Kurt … feels his smile turn real despite his sinking mood, nods at him.

“Not a problem.”

One thing about Blaine, Kurt learns right then and there, is that he looks incredibly cute when he grins. It doesn't do a lot to put him more at ease, but he grins back either way.

The first half hour of the class goes by pretty quickly and without a hitch. Kurt walks through the dancing couples, helps out a bit, and mostly it's a lot more relaxing than he had thought – whenever there is something to demonstrate, Hiram calls on one of the more experienced women of the older couples to help him out. Kurt is just glad that he doesn't have to do it. At least not yet, he reminds himself; Hiram is a really nice guy but his brain does work in very mysterious ways sometimes. Who knows what tasks he'll be coming up with for him over the next few months.

Once Mr. Vogel shows up and claims his wife back, Hiram keeps the music playing, waves his hand at Kurt to step in, and turns back to Mrs. and Mr. Hinkle who still keep getting their legs tangled during the easiest steps and have a distracting tendency for loudly accusing each other of stepping on the other's toes first.

Kurt takes a breath, takes the few steps towards Blaine who is looking up at him with that little adorably shy smile Kurt had seen earlier, looking as embarrassed as Kurt feels.

“So,” Kurt says.

“So,” Blaine repeats, and Kurt decides that, okay, he's the older one, he's the teacher here, he should be the one to break the ice.

“I have no idea how well this will go,” he points out truthfully, grimacing, “because … well, I have never done it this way.”

“This way?” Blaine asks, head tilted to the side.

Kurt gestures. “Um. You know. From the other side. Just warning you I might mess up a bit at first because it's probably kind of hard to do this backwards.”

Blaine grins, chuckles, says, “Do you want me to suggest trying it in heels?”

And Kurt laughs, shoulders dropping as some of the tension leaves his body. Because, Kurt thinks, he might make a fool of himself. But he'll be doing it in front of a cute guy who likes Rent. That somehow makes it seem a lot less embarrassing.

He steps forward, places a hand on Blaine's shoulder, waits for Blaine to take his other hand. “You go to Dalton?” he asks, nodding at Blaine's hoodie with the school emblem big on the front of it.

Blaine nods, a look of concentration on his face as he takes a first step, almost kicking Kurt in the shin. “Senior year. You know Dalton?”

Kurt stumbles as Blaine missteps again, grins at him. “Careful. And yes, I almost went there once. Do you like it?”

“I do,” Blaine says. “Very much. I'm almost sad to be leaving at the end of the school year.”

Kurt gently steers Blaine into the next move, subtly starts to lead and Blaine follows immediately. “Any idea where you're headed afterward? And please feel absolutely free to tell me to go and mind my own business if I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong.”

Blaine chuckles softly. “I don't mind you asking. And, um. I know it's silly and that probably ninety percent of the kids taking classes here say the same thing, but … I actually want to, um. Be a performer.” He blushes at that, lowers his head, and this time does step on Kurt's toes.

“Ow.” Kurt flinches, and Blaine's head snaps up, eyes horrified.

“Oh my god I am so sorry -”

“It's fine,” Kurt assures him, smiles. “And I don't think that's silly at all. I also haven't really spoken to many – or any, really – kids taking classes here since I only just started today as part of my work study program.” He raises his eyebrows at Blaine. “At NYADA.”

Blaine's eyes widen and the smile spreading across his face is awed, _delighted_. “You're at NYADA?”

Kurt nods. “Third year.”

Blaine stumbles trying to avoid Kurt's toes as he bounces a little with excitement. “You have _no_ idea how much I am hoping to get in there,” he says eagerly. “I – is it nice? Is it – What is it like, what are the teachers like, is everyone there, like, crazy talented? I mean, of course they are, they have to be, and that means – oh my god, you must be phenomenal. I – oh my god, I'm so sorry, I can't seem to stop babbling and I am probably sounding insane -”

Kurt laughs, gently squeezes his shoulder. “You're fine. Don't worry.”

“I just haven't actually spoken to anyone who actually went there, I'm sorry, I – You probably don't want to talk about school, I'm sorry, you can tell me to shut up any time.”

“Yeah, I won't do that,” Kurt assures him. “I wish I'd had someone to talk to before I started or even auditioned – but maybe right now we should concentrate on the dancing,” he jokes, as Blaine steps on his toes again rather enthusiastically.

“Oh god, sorry, I'm sorry, I -”

“It's fine, I'll live. Stop apologizing. Just maybe try and follow my lead?”

“Okay. I can do that. Okay. Sorry.” Blaine laughs. “It's just. Um. NYADA is really the only reason I'm taking this class in the first place.”

“Oh?” Kurt raises an eyebrow in question.

“You know, the Warblers are great with the singing and all that, but I feel woefully under-prepared for any dancing I might have to be doing in the future.”

Kurt gasps. “You didn't tell me you were a Warbler!”

Blaine wiggles his hips excitedly, which is definitely not part of this dance and throws Kurt off for a moment. “You know about the Warblers?”

Kurt counts his way back into the next few steps, gives him a look. “I went to McKinley. New Directions. We competed against your school several times.”

Blaine looks impressed. “You graduated about three years ago?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because you guys are _legends_ ,” Blaine says, sounding impressed. “See, I knew you must be spectacular.”

“I was not the one getting the solos back then,” Kurt says modestly.

“But you are the one who got into the most prestigious performing arts school in the country,” Blaine points out.

“You don't have to suck up to me,” Kurt points out, blushing. “You don't get grades on this class.”

“I just honestly feel a little star-struck right now,” Blaine says, stumbles through another step.

Kurt laughs out loud. “Oh my god, Blaine. I'm a college student. I'm broke, I'm constantly tired, and my biggest and only fan is my father and sometimes my roommate if she's in a particularly caring mood.”

Blaine grins. “And one day, you're going to be famous. And I'll point at your picture in a magazine and tell everyone, _I know this guy. He taught me everything I know about dance_!”

Kurt shakes his head at him, rolls his eyes. “Is that going to be before or after you escape from whatever mental institution you'll be residing in then?”

“Be nice to me! I'm nervous!”

“You're also really not paying any attention at all to these moves, Blaine, seriously -”

“Oh my god, I'm sorry -”

“No, no, I didn't mean -”

“I'm making it awkward, am I?”

“Okay, listen.” Kurt feels his heart pounding in his chest, hopes this isn't completely inappropriate. But he remembers what it feels like, standing on the edge of something new and wishing so desperately that there were anyone to ask for directions. And Blaine seems nice. A bit overeager now that his initial shyness has given way to excitement, but definitely very nice. “Let's focus on the dancing now and then maybe, if you don't have to leave immediately once we're done here, I'll answer any and all of your questions afterwards?”

Blaine bites his lip, doesn't meet his eyes, blushes so deeply red Kurt almost worries about him for a second. “Can we – um. Would you like to … There's this coffee place – Do you know the Lima Bean?”

Kurt nods. “I do. Did you want to -”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Once we're done here?”

Kurt looks at him, his hopeful eyes looking up at him from under those thick lashes, carefully styled hair and private school gym clothes and his heart is still beating too hard, too hard, palms tingly with possibility, and he thinks, _don't_. Blaine is cute, he's _beautiful_ , he's so nice … and he's a senior in _high school_.

 _Who are you kidding, you're practically still a kid yourself_ , Kurt quiets the voice inside his head, swallows. “Sure,” he says. “I'd love that.”

Blaine beams at him, and Kurt smiles back and can't stop staring and just really hopes that he is doing the right thing.

They actually do manage to focus on working on Blaine's dancing after that – because, honestly, it does need work. Kurt knows that even with all of his training he's not the most graceful dancer in the world himself, even if NYADA has done a lot to make him improve. But Blaine who moves elegantly enough actually seems to have really clumsy feet, or maybe he's just easily distracted, keeps getting his ankles tangled and a few times Kurt can just sort of awkwardly hop out of reach before Blaine steps on his toes yet again.

“I am starting to feel like I'm going to have to write an _I'm sorry_ note to your feet once we're done in here,” Blaine says sheepishly as Kurt stumbles against him when Blaine manages to trip him up accidentally once more.

Kurt winces. “I know Dalton's dance moves,” he assures him. “Believe me, you're actually doing a lot better than I would have expected of anyone coming from that place!”

Blaine tilts his head at him. “I can't work out if you're complimenting or insulting me right now.”

Kurt grins. “Which one would motivate you to try harder?”

“Harsh! I _am_ trying!”

“That's why I said try _harder_ ,” Kurt points out, and Blaine laughs. “Now come on Blaine, lead with your right – your _right_ – Blaine, you do know the difference between left and right, don't you …?”

By the end of the lesson, Blaine's hair has broken free of the gel helmet in places which actually makes him look even cuter in a disheveled and dangerous kind of way and Kurt can't stop smiling, which is something he hasn't really done a lot ever since he came back to Lima.

He feels a little bit unsettled by how easily this boy affects him and how absolutely open and flirty their entire interaction had progressed, but … he hasn't had a lot of reasons for smiling over the past few days. The past few weeks, really. And so he decides, for now, to ignore that queasy little sensation in his stomach and go with it; where's the harm in getting along with someone he just met an hour ago? Other people do it all the time, don't they?

Plus, he is going to be stuck in this town for the next few months and all of his friends – not that he ever had a lot of them here – are living somewhere else, and maybe it will be good to have someone at least close to his own age to hang out with occasionally. After all, what's three years age difference against an entire semester of hanging out in his childhood room all by himself re-organizing his music library on his laptop?

He changes back into his street clothes in the same dressing room as before, is just sliding his arms into the sleeves of his sweater and being grateful that he didn't actually have the opportunity to work up much of a sweat this time around because there's no shower here, when Hiram enters the room, absentmindedly scratching his head.

“Ah, Kurt. That went well, didn't it?” he asks, smiling at him.

“I think so,” Kurt answers. “Did I do okay so far?”

“You're doing great,” Hiram promises. “I think we'll get along wonderfully the next few months, don't you?”

Kurt smiles. “I hope so,” he responds, grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Nine in the morning,” Hiram reminds him. “Yoga class first thing on Tuesdays.”

“Right,” Kurt says, waves at him as he leaves.

Blaine is already waiting for him outside the doors, still in the same clothes as before, blushing a little as Kurt raises an eyebrow at him.

“I … didn't bring a change of clothes. I didn't have any afternoon classes today, so I came straight from home already dressed like this. We can … we can do coffee some other time if this is weird, I didn't -”

“Don't be silly,” Kurt says, smiles at him. “I certainly don't mind. If you are embarrassed to be seen in your gym clothes in a public place we can always get it to go and talk in the car?”

“I don't mind,” Blaine assures him.

“Well, okay. I just figured, you know, with you being a preppy private school boy and all. With the uniforms and stuff. Being this casual might be weird for you.”

“I'm okay. Just didn't want to embarrass you.” Blaine grins at him.

Kurt rolls his eyes, laughs out loud, which feels good, freeing. “Oh, Blaine. If I would actually care what people in this town thought of me ...”

Blaine's smile is delighted and Kurt already knows that he likes seeing him smile. A lot. He has to find a way to keep making it happen.

“Lima Bean?” Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. “I have my own car over there. Meet you in the parking lot?”

Blaine nods. “See you in a few minutes!”

**

And so, a few minutes later, Kurt finds himself sitting in the Lima Bean, which he hasn't entered in years, opposite a really, really very cute boy who won't stop being more adorable by the minute, feeling a little flustered and not quite sure what to say and having to make himself stop staring before it just becomes weird.

He's still trying to work out how weird it is exactly that Blaine is still in high school. … It's not like they're actually this far apart. It's not like this is completely impossible, except for the fact that Kurt doesn't actually know if Blaine even looks at him that way at all and also, he's kind of his dance instructor for the next few months, and for all he knows Blaine has a boyfriend or is just not interested and would quite possibly freak the hell out if he knew half of the things going through Kurt's mind right at this very second.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Kurt,” Blaine says politely, snapping him out of his thoughts, wrapping his fingers around his coffee mug. “I really appreciate it!”

“It's my pleasure,” Kurt breathes, blushes, clears his throat. “I mean. You have questions. I may have answers.” He smiles. “No need to thank me!”

Blaine smiles back and Kurt lowers his eyes to grin down at his hands curled around his own coffee mug, and, oh god, he knows there's no going back anymore, no reason fighting this, he may as well let himself be swept up with the current and see where it carries him.

This doesn't happen to him a whole lot. In fact, it rarely ever happens. But when it does, he knows there's no use fighting it, he has a massive crush on this guy he met all of one and a half hours ago and it might be a really, really _spectacularly_ bad idea, but what is he going to do?

It's not like he's going to act on it; his life is already enough of a mess without this messing it up even worse. But … things right now just are looking pretty damn dark most of the time and Blaine's smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds after weeks of rain, and maybe it makes him weak but he couldn't ignore it if he wanted to. He'll give Blaine all the help he needs with NYADA if he can just have coffee with him and spend a few more moments in the warmth of the sun that is Blaine's presence and politeness and the joy in his eyes when he smiles.

He lifts his head, eyes meeting Blaine's, decides to enjoy the way his heart jumps at the sight of him, he's just so _pretty_.

“So. New York. NYADA. What do you want to know?”

Blaine bounces in his seat, _beams_ at him. “Oh my god, where do I even _start_ -”

Kurt rests his chin on one hand and listens to him and for once, he can't stop smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey dad, I'm home,” he calls, hangs up his jacket by the door, takes the time to carefully place his shoes on the shoe rack.

On socked feet he pads into the living room where his father is sitting in his arm chair, feet propped up, looking too old, too pale in his dark robe and with the plaid blanket wrapped around his legs.

“Hey, buddy. How was the first day?”

He sits down on the couch, checks the TV screen. Something involving a car chase. Of course. “It was good. Thanks.”

“You're back late. Hiram keep you afterwards? On your first day?”

Kurt lowers his head a little, does his best to keep his voice neutral. “Oh … no. No. I – There was, um. One of the … students had a few questions for me afterwards. About New York and stuff. Um, college. You know.”

Burt raises an eyebrow at him and Kurt knows that smug, knowing look, he wears it himself often enough. “Nice of you to stay behind and help them out.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, bites his lip against the grin. “We went for coffee. That's why – that's why I'm back a little later than I – well. I'm sorry. I texted Carole -”

“Oh, I wasn't worried,” his dad says. “She told me.” He smiles at him, that warm, reassuring smile that has always put Kurt at ease ever since he was a kid worrying about getting in trouble over forgetting to put his bike in the shed over night. “You're gonna be here for a few months, kid. It's a good thing for you to be making a friend. Can't be expected to be hanging out with your old father all the time, after all.”

“If you want me out of the house more, just say the word, dad,” Kurt replies, raising his eyebrows right back at him, grinning.

His dad sighs deeply, shakes his head at him, eyes warm on his. “I missed you, Kurt. It's good to have you back. Even if it's just for a few months.”

“I've missed you, too, dad,” he says, then frowns at the TV. “Can we put something else on? This is a bit -”

“Oh, yes, please,” Carole speaks up, entering the living room from the hallway, putting a tray of carrots sticks and cherry tomatoes on the coffee table, at which Burt sighs loudly. “It's two against one now! Burt, honey, you're finally outnumbered!” She kisses the top of Kurt's head in passing, ruffles his hair a little. “Good to have you home, sweetheart.”

Kurt grins triumphantly as he picks up the remote, changes the channel to find something all of them will be able to enjoy equally.

**

The week goes by slowly and he attends and helps out with the classes Hiram wants him in, spends the rest of his time mostly back at the house, finding things to occupy his time that won't interfere with Carole's running of the household.

It's still not something that always feels comfortable all of the time, that all of those little things that used to be his responsibility are actually her responsibility now.

She has reorganized the spice rack. It's not like it even really matters, but his fingers are still itching to put it back the way it was when he was the one cooking in this kitchen. But he doesn't live here anymore and it's not his kitchen. It's hers.

He also notices the fact that they have switched to a different laundry detergent. He wants to ask why and what kind of thoughts and reasoning went into it, but it's really not his place anymore to do that. And he knows that, and he accepts it. Still, it's hard sometimes.

And yet he loves Carole and he loves how happy she makes his dad. He knows she's taking good care of him and of the house and if it weren't for her he doesn't know how he'd ever get through any of this, his dad looking so old and so pale and so sick. He's grateful that he's not completely alone in this. Because … he knows he could get through it, he's done it before, but now he doesn't have to, and that means so, so much.

So he tries not to interfere, and instead does his best to help where he can.

Since he's not working all that much, usually two or three classes a day, he makes himself useful cooking more elaborate meals than Carole may have time for during the week, and taking care of the flower beds in the backyard, and doing all that extra cleaning that is usually not included in a normal weekend cleaning. Like emptying all the kitchen cupboards, wiping them down, and putting everything back inside. He defrosts the freezer. He puts up a few extra shelves in the basement to make room for the various things that have been thrown in boxes under the stairs over the years for lack of room anywhere else. He fixes the tap that had been dripping for weeks in the downstairs bathroom.

There are a hundred little things to do and he always finds ways to make himself feel useful, and when he really cannot think of anything else for a minute or finds that it is time for a break, there's always his dad.

Kurt's been living in New York for over two years. It's not a terribly long time to have been moved out, but it's long enough that it feels like forever since he and his dad have spent more than three weeks at a time over the summer under the same roof. Kurt is well aware of the fact that he hasn't been home as much as he would have wanted, not as much as his dad would have liked. But he'd made it a point to pick up extra shifts over the summer in New York, to get in a bit more time at Vogue.com which he did have to say goodbye to now that he's spending months in Lima, but he's still hopeful they'll take him back, he likes it there.

It's nice, spending time with his father again. He seriously enjoys it. A lot. He loves his dad, he's missed him so much, he always, always misses him, he's his _dad_. And yet, it's not easy. And, okay, he can't deny it, sometimes he does make up something else he has yet to do just so he can get up from his seat on the couch and leave the room, sometimes it _is_ an excuse. He could descale the coffee maker tomorrow, and there really are no stains left in the sink that justify scrubbing it down again, and he doesn't have to make another run to the store because he forgot the basil, he's not going to make that tomato quiche today anyway.

It's just that sometimes he can't face his dad like that, and he's ashamed of it, and it's _why he's here in the first place_ , but … sometimes he just simply cannot do it.

His dad is strong and resilient and his rock in all things life throws at Kurt, and even though he's held his hand through a coma when he was sixteen, this time he has trouble even looking at him in his armchair with his robe too wide around his too thin frame; how often can they cheat fate?

So this is how on Thursday night he finds himself suddenly parked outside the supermarket, not quite sure what he even pretended to be needing anymore, feeling like a coward as he bites his lip and stares across the mostly empty parking lot.

With a sigh he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, the warm summer air in the slowly fading light smelling of asphalt and freshly cut grass and the barbecue someone must be having a few houses down the street. They do need window cleaner, so he might as well pick that up now, and maybe if they have any kind of fresh fruit at this hour he can find something his dad actually likes for breakfast.

He's almost up to the doors, checking the time on his phone, when someone calls his name, and he looks up. And there's Blaine, walking up to him, his grin wide and his uniform blue and red polyester and probably not the most comfortable thing in the world during the summer, Kurt thinks as he smiles back.

“Blaine!”

“Hey!” Blaine looks actually excited to see him, hurrying over to him more quickly now that Kurt has seen him, waving his hand in a gesture that would look ridiculous on anyone else on the planet but, strangely, really works on him. His curls are breaking free from the gel close to his hairline, probably from the heat, and his smile is ridiculously wide.

Kurt slips his phone into his back pocket, not sure what to say. “How … are things?”

Blaine shrugs excitedly. “Good. One more day until the weekend! Do you get weekends? I mean, you probably have classes -”

“Oh, yes.” Kurt nods. “All day Saturday, a few on Sunday. But we're closed Wednesdays to make up for it. And Hiram is really good about letting me have time with my family since I'm really only an intern and probably in the way more than I'm actually helping -”

“Hey, no, don't say that!” Blaine protests, sounding completely offended on Kurt's behalf. “You were very helpful to me!” He dances a few steps that look nothing like anything Kurt had taught him earlier that week, grins. “See?”

“Oh, yes!” Kurt laughs. “I absolutely see what you mean now. But, no, honestly, thanks. I _am_ glad if you found something helpful in my bumbling teaching attempts.”

Blaine bumps their shoulders together as they start walking toward the electric doors of the market side by side. “I'm already looking forward to next week. Oh, and I had another look at the NYADA website and checked out that one blog you told me about. Thanks again for that, I mean, I've been reading the show choir blogs for years but that was so helpful -”

“I know, right? I wish someone had told me these things when I first started out,” Kurt answers, and by the time they are walking past the produce aisle, they're already deep in conversation.

It turns out that Blaine is an excellent shopping buddy. He helps Kurt locate the window cleaner since the shop has been rearranged since the last time he's been here, then walks back toward the front with him to check for fresh things he can bring home for his dad.

“What are you here for anyway?” Kurt asks as he inspects the apples while Blaine selects a few strawberries for him and puts them in a bag.

“Oh, I was just coming by on my way home to pick up some things for my mom, I have a list on my phone.” Blaine chooses another strawberry carefully, puts it with the others.

Kurt looks up at him, feeling slightly guilty. “And here you are doing my shopping for me, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you! I'm sure your mom is waiting -”

Blaine laughs, shakes his head. “No, that's fine! She won't even be home for another half hour or so, she's having a long day at the office, which is why she texted me to do the shopping in the first place.”

Kurt nods, puts his apples in the shopping basket, takes the bag of strawberries from Blaine. “Let's go get your things, then.”

“You don't have to hang around, you can go if you have things to do -”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts him off sternly, one hand on his shoulder to steer him away from the fruit. “I don't have anywhere to be. What's on your list?”

Blaine smiles, fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Okay. If you're sure. Let's see.”

It's been an hour since Kurt found himself sitting in his car in the parking lot by the time they walk out of the electric sliding doors side by side, grocery bags in hand.

“...so I've been trying to convince them to perform off campus ever since, but I get the same speech every time, you know, _it's tradition, we've never done it_ , blah blah.”

Kurt shakes his head in sympathy. “That's just the lamest excuse in the world. Honestly. 'Because it's always been this way' is without a doubt the worst argument for not trying something new,” he agrees. “And the New Directions definitely benefited from some of the adversity you're inadvertently faced with when you risk putting yourself out there.”

“Well, your nursing home story still sounds scary,” Blaine points out with a little laugh.

“Yeah, but your stories of that crazy guy with his gavel -”

“- Wes!”

“...don't actually sound so much better! In theory I like the idea of having a council, but I do not like to imagine what would have happened if Rachel had ever got her hands on a gavel during one of our glee rehearsals...”

“I just really wish we'd get more experience performing in front of audiences that are not our parents and Dalton alumni or simply show choir judges at competitions. As much as I know I'm getting an excellent education musically from the Warblers, I do know very well what's missing in other areas. That's why I -” He breaks off, shrugs. “Um.”

“What?” Kurt wants to know, trying to dig his car keys from his pocket as he walks.

Blaine blushes and looks at his feet. “Nothing.”

“That's why you're taking dancing lessons? Because I already know that.” He laughs. “And by the way, it's admirable, really. You're doing everything you can to get to the top and -”

“I perform at theme parks,” Blaine blurts out and quickly bites his lip, flushes an ever darker shade of red.

“You … oh.” Kurt does his best not to look too amused at this new piece of information. “Really?”

“If you tell anyone -”

“Who would I even tell that we both know?”

“Right. I didn't think of that.”

“Besides. It's totally not as embarrassing as you think it is!”

Blaine turns his head to meet his eyes, both impressive eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

Kurt sighs, grins, rolls his eyes. “Fine. It is sort of embarrassing.”

“I knew it!”

“But more than that it's actually ...” he lifts his shoulders, searches for the right words. “Really brave. You perform in front of a real audience; it's good experience, and so it's maybe not the coolest thing in the world, but no one will give a shit about that when you win your first Tony.”

“You think so?” Blaine beams at him. “Because … can I tell you a secret?”

“You seem to be in a sharing mood, so I say, go ahead,” Kurt says warmly. Blaine is kind of cute when he gets excited.

Blaine tilts his head at him, face scrunched up adorably as he bravely meets his eyes. “I do actually kind of enjoy it.”

Kurt can't contain his smile and he knows he's entirely lost as he looks into Blaine's eyes and doesn't want to look away, his face may be stuck on a permanent smile for days after tonight. “Oh, Blaine,” he says, knocks their shoulders together affectionately. “Of course you do.”

Blaine bounces a little on his feet and Kurt has to look away under the pretense of beeping his car door open because he still doesn't know how smart it is to already feel this much after so little time.

“Hey, um,” Blaine says, stops a few feet from Kurt's car.

Kurt shifts his grip on the grocery bag, turns to face him. “What is it?”

Blaine clears his throat, raises a hand to rub the back of his neck while looking just a little flustered. “I was wondering – I'm sorry if this is weird, you're my dance instructor and I don't want to … overstep any boundaries here, but … are you doing anything this weekend?”

Kurt pauses, tries not to stare, opens his mouth, closes it again.

They already had coffee. They just spent an hour dissecting the show choir blogs while hanging out in the frozen foods aisle.

So maybe it's not the smartest thing to get too involved, but Blaine is really, really nice and easy to talk to and really very, very cute, looking at him with his eyes all big and a little worried and Kurt realizes he's been standing here way to long not saying anything back.

“No, no,” he says, lets out a short laugh that sounds more nervous than reassuring. “No plans this weekend. Well. Going through a few boxes in the attic, but it's not like that can't be done any time, really, so there are no plans that are really, uh, _fixed_ , you know, in case I'd have to shift them around … I mean, I'm – um.” He breaks off, mentally kicks himself, says, “Flexible. Uh.” And kicks himself again, even harder than before. “I meant – you know.”

Blaine smiles at him as if Kurt said something unbelievably smart and looks less nervous now that Kurt is the one tripping over his words. “So, you have no plans?”

“Other than those boxes. In the attic. No, I don't.”

“Would you maybe like to have a cup of coffee with me some time?” Blaine asks, sounding so polite Kurt would probably agree to it and find the time even if his entire weekend was planned down to the second already.

“I'd love to,” he says, and can't keep his heart from picking up speed just a little.

“Can I have your number?” Blaine looks very happy as he offers him his phone, and Kurt tries to ignore that silly swooping thing his stomach does as their fingers brush. “Then I can text you and we can confirm our plans.”

Kurt enters his phone number and tries not to blush and feels sixteen again, and maybe that's a good thing sometimes.

He's home and putting the groceries away in the kitchen while Carole is talking to the nurse who comes to check up on his dad twice a week, when his phone buzzes on the counter where he'd put it down. When he picks it up, it's an unknown number and he starts smiling before he's even pulled up the message.

_Guess who? ;P_

Kurt bites his lip, checks that he's still alone; he can still hear everyone else's voices from the living room before he starts saving Blaine's number, pauses over entering the contact information.

_Hey, I don't even know your last name!_ he texts back.

The reply comes within seconds.

_It's Anderson. Are you going to stalk me now that I told you that?_

Kurt laughs.

_You asked ME for my number and texted me first!_

_What can I say, I thought you could use a friend?_

Kurt leans back against the kitchen counter, fingers hovering over the key pad as he thinks. Blaine is right. He could use a friend. And it actually looks as if he's already made one.

_Are you volunteering? Because sooner or later I'll make you help me with those boxes in the attic._

Blaine texts back: _That seems only fair, you're helping me with my dance moves, after all!_

Kurt grins, puts the last of the apples into the fruit bowl on the table, and makes his slow way into the living room as he hears Carole say goodbye to the nurse by the front door. He keeps his phone with him.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad greets him, looking up from his usual chair. “Everything okay? You were out for quite a while.”

Kurt sits down on the couch, shrugs. “What are your thoughts on strawberry parfait for breakfast tomorrow?”

His dad shrugs back. “I am not quite sure what that is, but if you're making it then I am sure that I'll like it and that it won't kill me.”

Kurt grins. “That's the plan.”

“In that case, sounds good.”

Kurt nods, leans back against the cushions. “What are we watching tonight?”

“There's a game on.”

“Of course there is.”

“We can watch something else. Or we can just talk, if you want? We haven't done that in a while, you know?”

Kurt hesitates, thinks about it. Looks at his dad. So thin. So pale. He _should_ talk to him. He should tell him about his life and learn about everything he missed when he wasn't here. He should … he should…

“You can watch the game,” he says, picking up a magazine from the coffee table. “I wasn't done reading this anyway.”

“Are you sure?” his dad asks quietly.

“Yeah, dad,” Kurt says, makes himself smile, annoyed at his own cowardice.

His dad clicks on the TV and Kurt sends off a quick text to Blaine before he turns to his reading.

_It's kind of my job to help you with the dancing! That's not a favor!_

Blaine must have been waiting for the text because he replies immediately: _That doesn't mean I can't appreciate it, does it?_

Kurt shakes his head and replies: _I don't think you understand how the whole system with favors works, Blaine._

When his phone buzzes again seconds later he settles down to a night of texting while sitting next to his dad who's watching TV and maybe this is a good compromise.

Maybe some distraction is healthy sometimes. And Blaine definitely makes him smile. A lot.

**

They meet at the Lima Bean on Saturday and Kurt can't deny it – he's been looking forward to this every since they made their plans on Thursday night.

He also realizes, when he gets out of the car in the parking lot and sees Blaine already standing by the door waiting for him, that this is only the third time he's seen Blaine at all and the first time he's seen him wearing something that doesn't have a Dalton emblem on it.

Blaine dresses well, when he's not wearing that uniform or baggy Dalton gym clothes. He's dressed in tight red pants with a black polo and a bow tie, and Kurt can't help it, anyone who puts on a bow tie and _means it_ here in the middle of Ohio where people are less than appreciative of those things deserves not only his respect, but his friendship. Plus, it looks really, really cute on Blaine.

“Hi,” Blaine greets him, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against.

“Hi,” Kurt says back, tries not to grin too widely when Blaine actually holds the door to the Lima Bean open for him. Politeness just always gets to him, even if it's not as if Blaine needed any more points in his favor. He's pretty much won him over already and Kurt knows there's nothing he can do about it and dammit, he doesn't even want to. He just seriously wants to enjoy this right now when the rest of his life is kind of not really going at all the way he would like it to most of the time.

They get their coffee and settle at a small table for two near the back corner where it's relatively quiet. Not that it's an especially busy day, the weather is exceptionally nice which usually draws most of Lima's inhabitants out to the public pool or to that one coffee cart by the duck pond in the park.

“So, how are those boxes in the attic?” Blaine asks, stirring sugar into his coffee.

Kurt leans back in his chair, crosses his legs under the table. “Haven't even looked at them yet,” he confesses.

“Too busy with work?”

Kurt shrugs. “There's work. And … family stuff.”

Blaine nods. “Of course. Are you enjoying spending time with your family again?”

Kurt thinks about it, not sure how much he wants to reveal to a guy he's met all of three times and doesn't really know all that well. “I … kind of do. Yeah. It's complicated.”

Blaine tilts his head at him. “You don't get along with your family?”

“No, that's not it.” Kurt sighs, takes a slow sip of his coffee, steals a long glance at Blaine's kind, patient face.

And he decides, to hell with it all, he needs someone to talk to or he's going to go insane eventually, and he could Skype Rachel or Elliott, but somehow the comfort of talking to someone who doesn't really know him yet, hasn't known this weird roller coaster he's been on with his dad's health for the past couple of years, sounds good to him.

It's not that his friends have stopped caring. It's just that it kind of stops sounding very dramatic after a while if the same relative gets sick again and again and gets through it every time. His friends are sympathetic, but it's like they have started to _expect_ a positive outcome when Kurt feels fear and panic making his chest go tight every time he gets more bad news concerning his dad's heart condition. It has never started feeling mundane and everyday to _him_. It's his _dad_.

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” Blaine says when he's been silent for too long. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I am sorry.”

“My dad had a heart attack recently,” Kurt says, puts his coffee cup down carefully, eyes fixed on the cheap Formica table top. “It wasn't his first one.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry -”

“It's why I took the internship at Hiram's studio, here in Lima,” he goes on to explain. “I needed to be here for a while, just to see for myself … He's fine now, you know?” He looks up at Blaine. “Well. As fine as he can be in his condition. He's at home and he's alive, but he needs a lot of things done for him that he didn't used to need and – he might not go back to work. Ever. We don't know yet.”

“Kurt, I had no idea,” Blaine says, eyebrows drawn together with worry, leaning forward in his chair. “That … really sucks. I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I mean, I know it could all be a lot worse, but -”

“Don't say that,” Blaine tells him. “This is scary stuff. I'd be freaked out too.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says. “I just – god, I'm sorry to be such a downer. We've just been through all of this before; he had his first heart attack when I was a sophomore in high school and back then it was just me and him, it was … I feel like I should have found a way to handle it by now, but ...” he shrugs again.

“He's your dad,” Blaine says, reaching out to touch Kurt's hand, just a fleeting little touch but somehow comforting all the same.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, twitches a small smile at him. “He is.”

“Do you … want to talk about it?” Blaine offers. “I've been told that I'm a good listener. And getting all of this off your chest can be very therapeutic, I'd be happy to just listen for a while if it helps.”

Kurt shakes his head, and this time the smile already comes a little easier. “That's very sweet of you, Blaine. But I didn't even mean to burden you with this much. You have your own stuff.”

“It's not a burden,” Blaine assures him. “This is what friends are for, right?”

Kurt wraps his hands around the warmth of his coffee cup and finds Blaine entirely too adorable. “It's okay. Let's just … talk about happier things. But I appreciate the offer. I really do.”

Blaine nods. “Well, whenever you do need to talk, I promise you that I'm here for you. This is not a one-time offer. And you have my number. So, seriously. Call me whenever.”

“You really are exceptionally sweet,” Kurt breathes, not even meaning to say it, but the words are out before he can stop them.

It makes Blaine smile, so he definitely counts it as a win.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the weekend passes slowly as Kurt helps Hiram teach a few classes, cooks a healthy yet elaborate meal for his family on Sunday, and texts Blaine almost constantly unless he is either busy teaching, eating, or sleeping.

He's not used to this and it takes him a bit by surprise – he doesn't open up like this to most of his closest friends with the exception of Rachel and sometimes Elliott. But even with them he needed a while and he still likes to filter how much they know about him, being vulnerable can get you hurt, he likes to hang on to some of the things that make him himself just so no one can use them against him.

But with Blaine, it's like he can't stop himself from talking. Blaine doesn't even really have to ask, Kurt just wants so desperately to not carry all of this by himself all of the time and when Blaine tells him he'll listen, he actually means it. Kurt just … _knows_ that he does, somehow. Blaine is far too serious about these to ever not mean something like that.

It's not like he's revealing details of his private life to Blaine all of the time – they seriously don't know each other that well. But when Blaine texts him on Sunday morning, _Hey, how are you today?_ Kurt replies with _Tired, actually. Didn't sleep well. How are you?_

He stares at the text he just sent, wondering why he didn't just say 'fine' instead of replying honestly. But Blaine won't judge him. He thinks he already knows him well enough to know that much at least.

By the time Monday rolls around Kurt is definitely looking forward to the class Blaine is in even if he knows he's probably going to have to partner up with him again and do all of those dances backwards and that is still just not his favorite thing to do. But even with this added level of difficulty, it is kind of fun, dancing with Blaine, and he definitely does enjoy it. And also, he has always enjoyed a challenge.

Hiram is being held up by a phone call from Rachel who, Kurt knows, has an important audition later today and usually calls one of her dads beforehand so they can calm her down – at least when Kurt is not around to do it for her instead. And since Kurt is currently here in Lima taking care of his own family and being an intern at a dance studio for a few months, Rachel's dad is now on the phone with Rachel, leaving Kurt to figure out the complicated stereo in the corner of the room, which so far, is completely refusing to play anything he wants it to play at all.

“Hey,” a voice says right behind him, and he jumps a bit, startled out of his concentration, puts a hand over his heart as he turns with a sighed out laugh.

“Blaine. Oh my god. You scared me.”

Blaine scrunches up his nose at him. “Sorry! I thought you heard me coming over.”

“I was a little distracted trying to get this -” Kurt gestures at the big, shiny black stereo, “ _thing_ to cooperate with me.”

“Oh.” Blaine gives it an appraising look, tilts his head. “What's it doing?”

Kurt shrugs helplessly. “Not much of anything? I mean, I _think_ I managed to switch it on because this lamp thing right there wasn't glowing before, but it won't actually play anything.”

“May I?” Blaine asks, gesturing toward the control panel, and Kurt steps aside for him.

“By all means! Be my guest!”

“I think the one we have at Dalton is actually pretty similar, but I am not sure, let me see, I haven't had to use it since the Warblers threw that impromptu party for my eighteenth birthday -”

“You have one of those at your school?”

“Just something kind of similar. Are you alone today?” Blaine asks, as he starts pressing buttons.

Kurt shakes his head. “Hiram's on the phone, he's going to be here any second.”

Blaine flashes a smile at him. “Does that mean that I get to dance with you again for the lesson? Or did you find me someone else to pair up with since last week?”

Kurt grins back at him. “No new names on the class list as far as I know!”

“Awesome!”

“You know,” he points out, “You might actually be learning more if you were dancing with a woman, since I'm not exactly an expert at this.”

Blaine frowns. “Everyone's a beginner here, right? I don't see how you could possibly be holding me back, you at least know what you're doing as opposed to the rest of us.” He presses another button and music starts filling the small dance studio as he steps back with a triumphant grin. “This what you were trying to play?”

Kurt feels his face light up, throws Blaine a grateful smile. “You're a genius!”

“Not really.” Blaine laughs. “I pretty much just pressed random buttons. You would have gotten the same result eventually.”

Kurt laughs, takes his hand to spin him into a quick, silly dance. “Whatever. As long as it works now!”

The room starts filling up with the rest of the class as Kurt twirls Blaine out of the dance and they laugh at each other and Kurt almost wishes they could just do this every day, all the time. He laughs more with Blaine than he does with anyone else; he feels good around him.

It definitely also helps that Blaine's smile is so cute, the big one that shows his teeth and almost shuts his eyes and makes Kurt's heart beat just a little bit faster in his chest.

All of Blaine's smiles are cute. Kurt finds that most of the time, he has simply no other choice but to feel better when he sees them.

**

They don't go to the Lima Bean after the lesson this time because Blaine has a study group to go to, and Kurt thinks he should probably go home anyway – he feels bad every time he stays away from home for too long, even though most of the time he does spend at the house he feels useless and like he doesn't know what he's even doing here. 

He's not helping his dad by simply being in Lima; there is no way to help his dad other than make sure he doesn't stress himself out and eats healthy and takes his medication. And if he's being quite honest, he knows that Carole had that under control even before he came back, they don't _need_ him here, he's not _helping_.

But he's here now and even if a lot of the time he feels like he wants to cry with helplessness, he doesn't wish to be anywhere else.

Before he can retreat to the changing rooms after the lesson, Blaine touches his arm, stops him.

“Kurt?”

“Mm?” He turns around, hating that his mood starts slipping every time he has to leave here; it's not that he doesn't like going home. It's just that … he really doesn't like feeling powerless like this.

“I was wondering,” Blaine asks. “I mean, you can absolutely say no because I know I have already been taking up so much of your time with all those texts and everything, but -”

He turns around fully so he's facing him, smiles. “Blaine?”

“- what?”

“You're not taking up any more of my time than I actually want to give you.”

“Oh. I – okay, I just -”

He takes a deep breath, takes the leap; it's not like Blaine hasn't already said it before. “This is what friends are for, right?”

Blaine's smile is so _happy_ Kurt feels his heart jump merrily against his ribs. “Yeah,” Blaine breathes, clears his throat. “Thank you. I was just wondering ...”

“If it's about your training outfit, yes, I do think you can combine a bow tie with the gym clothes if you switch out the hoodie for a polo shirt -”

Blaine lowers his eyes, laughs softly. “It's not about the gym clothes.”

“Well, I'm still right, though.”

Blaine's eyes are warm on his as he looks back up at him. “Of course you are.”

“So.” Kurt shifts his weight to one hip, nods at Blaine. “What's up?”

“Well, I just wanted to ask,” Blaine starts, “since I have the study group today and have to run out, if maybe … you'd be up for having coffee with me again some other time this week instead? I mean. Just if you have the time,” he adds quickly. “It's just that I have so many more questions about NYADA and my audition and just, like, performing in general and -”

“I'd love to,” Kurt says, as Blaine adds, “And I just really enjoy hanging out with you and I would just like to spend more time with you.”

“Oh,” Kurt whispers.

“Uh. Yeah.” Blaine grins a little embarrassed grin, rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “So -”

“Like I said,” Kurt tells him, trying very hard to keep himself from blushing fire engine red, but he's just … really happy right now. “I'd love to. I -”

“You would?”

“- I like hanging out with you too.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Um. Kind of … a lot. Actually. Uh.”

Blaine looks so pleased, Kurt knows he's staring at him a lot less subtle than he'd like but Blaine is amazing and cute and so, so kind and Blaine likes hanging out with him, and he just doesn't find it in himself to look away.

“That works out well then,” Blaine says, stares back at him with his eyebrows drawn up into a dreamy expression and Kurt feels like he's floating, he can't remember ever before feeling the way he feels when Blaine is looking at him.

“I have Wednesdays off,” he reminds Blaine.

“I have Warbler rehearsal Wednesday afternoon,” Blaine says. “Wednesday night, then?”

Kurt nods, hesitates. “Dinner? Maybe? Instead of coffee?” It's a risky offer since dinner is kind of specific and it means something and -

“It's a date,” Blaine says, sounding so excited about it.

And Kurt can't stop smiling, even though he knows Blaine didn't mean it like that.

**

It's his day off and yet Kurt decides to get up early anyway on Wednesday and make breakfast for his dad.

He does feel bad for being so absent even when he's in the house – he so desperately wants to spend time with his father, feels antsy and wrong and impatient every time he's out of the house for too long, like he's going to miss something when he's away.

His dad is doing well. Sure, he's weak and they are still in and out of doctor's offices and it's still not clear whether he won't be forced into early retirement by this. But he's alive. He's awake. He's at home.

Kurt remembers much too vividly being sixteen and sitting by his hospital bed, holding his hand and feeling so lost and small and alone, the only family he had in a coma and him on his own and so, so scared.

He's not alone this time, he has Carole and he has his friends and that is worth a lot. And yet – it's his dad. Even with all the new family in his life to care about him and be there for him, he really can't even grasp the idea of losing his dad. Not after everything, not after...

His mom, so many years ago, and god, he still misses her so, so much, wishes so often she could be here to see what he's doing with his life. And then Finn, a loss that still sits sharp like a knife wound under his ribs; they had only just become brothers and then he'd been ripped away so suddenly and Kurt doesn't even really want to imagine what Carole must have felt when his dad got sick – he doesn't want her to go through it again either.

He just wants his dad to be okay and he wants to spend as much time with him as he can, in case, in case … He just doesn't want to regret anything, later.

But the thing is, he can't stand it sometimes, can't stand looking at him and seeing him so pale and frail and small in his chair and being reminded of his mortality; as long as he's not looking, his dad could just as well be healthy and strong and working at his job at his beloved garage fixing cars and walking in through the door of their house after closing time, clapping Kurt on the shoulder with that affectionate smile reserved only for his son, asking, “How was your day?”

So this Wednesday morning he sets his alarm, makes his way down to the kitchen while his dad is still asleep and starts putting together a real breakfast for the two of them.

Carole is off to a morning shift already, it's just going to be them, just like old times. He even feels bad missing those old times sometimes because he loves having Carole in the family, but … there are days when he can't shake the nostalgia and it leaves him feeling oddly guilty.

He is just finishing up the fruit platter when his dad shuffles into the kitchen, sleepily blinking against the light.

“You're up early, isn't it your day off?”

Kurt looks up from the counter, smiles at him. “It is. But I thought we could sit down together for breakfast?”

“Sounds great,” his dad says. “Need help with anything?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Just sit down. I'm almost done here.”

Burt takes a seat at the table, watches him quietly as Kurt puts the finishing touches on breakfast.

“Listen,” he says after a minute. “I think I didn't actually say sorry yet for scaring you like this again, and I just -”

“Dad.” Kurt puts down the knife, turns around to meet his eyes. “You don't have to apologize for getting sick.”

“No, I know that,” he says, sighs. “But, I know this has been hard on you. On Carole too. And I know that you only took this internship in Lima because of me, don't tell me you actually want to be spending months in this town -”

“Yes, I do,” Kurt says stubbornly, crosses his arms in front of his chest. “This town is exactly the place where I want to be right now.”

“No, it's not,” his dad insists. “But thank you for pretending otherwise. I'm really sorry that you didn't get to do your internship in New York, but I'm not gonna lie, I actually am enjoying having you here again for a while, kiddo. I missed you.”

Kurt nods and breathes deeply and doesn't cry. “I'm not sorry about missing out on that other internship,” he promises. “I'm really not. But I would be really sorry if you needed me and I wasn't here.”

Burt shakes his head, looks at him like he knows him too well. “It's not your job to take care of me, Kurt.”

“Yeah, it is,” Kurt disagrees. “This is what we do. This is the way it's always been. God, dad – I wouldn't have made it even through my first year of high school if it hadn't been for you. You know that, right? It's always been us against the world. If I can do even just a tiny little bit to repay you for everything you did for me -”

“What did I do for you that any parent wouldn't have done?” Burt asks. “You're my son, Kurt. Hell, I always felt like I wasn't doing _enough_ , it's not fair that you had such a tough time of it, but I am so proud of you, Kurt. I mean, look at your life, all the things you've accomplished, and never giving up on your dreams -”

“I love you, dad,” Kurt says, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“I love you too,” his dad says. “And I'm glad you're here. I just wish you didn't feel like you had to be.”

Kurt bites his lip and lowers his head and he knows his dad didn't mean it that way, but he's just too aware of his own shortcomings.

He'll just have to do better from now on.

And hopefully sitting down for breakfast together is a good start.

**

It's afternoon when Blaine texts him just as Kurt is finishing up cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen drawers; a task he had to take up in order to distract himself from being nervous about his maybe-possibly-actual-date with Blaine tonight.

_Hey, I was thinking since I am driving to Breadstix straight after rehearsal, I can just pick you up on the way?_

Kurt stares at the text for a bit and feels silly for the way his heart beats so happily-excitedly hard in his chest, for the way the smile tugs at his mouth so enthusiastically it almost hurts to hold it in. It probably doesn't mean what he wants it to mean, it's probably just Blaine being nice...

_That sounds good, what time will you be here?_

_Five-ish?_ Blaine texts back, and before Kurt can respond, the next text comes in: _I just thought it might be the responsible thing to do ecologically, you know? We don't both have to move our cars._

Kurt grins. _How very smart of you_ , he texts back. _And very responsible indeed._

_Thank you! I though so! See you around five?_

_See you then_ , Kurt texts, and lets the smile spread across his face, after all there is no one here to judge him anyway.

**

It is almost five on the dot when Blaine's car pulls into the driveway. Kurt recognizes it from seeing it in the Lima Bean parking lot. He also realizes right at that moment that it's maybe a little weird to be standing hidden behind the net curtain in the dining room watching the driveway and waiting for him to arrive. Especially since this is most definitely _not_ a date and pretending that it is may be just the tiniest bit creepy on his part.

But since he has already seen him and it is five on the dot which means it makes sense for him to be ready, he takes his jacket and heads for the door.

“Dad,” he says, quickly sticking his head into the family room. “I'm going out. I'll be back by ten at the latest.”

His dad looks up from the TV, rolls his eyes at him. “Kurt, it's not like you have a curfew anymore.”

“No, I know, I just -”

“Have fun,” his dad says, smiles, and Kurt smiles back.

“Thanks, dad. I will.”

He makes it to the front door just as Blaine is about to step onto the front porch.

“Hi,” he greets, pulling the door shut behind himself.

Blaine looks up at him, his eyes wide and excited and happy. “Hi, Kurt!”

“You are very … punctual,” Kurt says for lack of anything better coming to mind, winces a little at his awkwardness. He's never really been picked up at home before, the dates he's been on in New York, they had usually just met wherever they were gonna meet up...

“Um, yeah.” Blaine blushes, lowers his eyes as Kurt descends the steps towards him. “I … might have been ten minutes early and waited around the corner.”

“Seriously?”

“That's weird, isn't it?”

Kurt shakes his head and cannot contain his smile. “I think it's adorable,” he breathes, mentally adds, _I think_ you're _adorable_. That is not something he really wants to say out loud.

**

They sit opposite each other at a small table near the back. It's quiet since it's a Wednesday evening in Lima, Ohio – the only days Kurt has ever seen this place even close to crowded were Fridays and Saturdays, back when he was in high school and used to come here with Mercedes, and on his one and only date with Brittany.

Their easy conversation interrupted with the business of having to order, silence falls between them once the waiter leaves and Kurt lowers his eyes to his hands, blinks up to assess the situation, only to find Blaine doing the same at the exact same time.

He laughs shyly, shakes his head at the table top. “Why is this suddenly awkward?”

Blaine chuckles softly. “I have no idea.”

“Well.” Kurt looks up at him again. “We're here because you have questions about NYADA, right? So, ask away!”

Blaine doesn't looks at him, clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, actually … I was wondering if we could maybe. Just. Talk?”

Kurt frowns. “...Sure. About -”

“Something other than school. I just -” Blaine sighs, lifts his head to meet Kurt's eyes, suddenly looking nervous. “I'd just like to get to know you better? If that's okay -”

“Yeah, no, sure, of course, absolutely,” Kurt babbles, “We can do that. Um. Sure!”

“We don't have to,” Blaine hurries to assure him. “This is weird, isn't it? Oh god, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I keep _doing_ this, I keep building these things up in my head and … at least you don't work at the GAP.” He groans, drops his face into his hands. “Please ignore everything I say.”

Kurt just stares. “...The GAP?” he asks, not really following anymore.

Blaine sighs, drops his hands back into his lap. “I guess you had to be there. Anyway, I'm sorry for assuming … I just -”

“Blaine?” Kurt asks, heart hammering in his chest, but he has to know.

“Yeah?”

“Is this … um. Well. At the risk of me totally weirding you out right now, but … is this a date?”

Blaine looks very unhappy. “I kind of wanted it to be. I'm sorry. It's weird. I know. I didn't even think -”

“Okay,” Kurt says quickly, before he can change his mind and be rational about this.

Blaine pauses. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay what?”

Kurt takes a deep breath. “I'd like this to be a date. Please.”

The smile on Blaine's face is shy, hopeful, sunnier than the most beautiful day in July. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you!”

Kurt grins at him. “Are you always this polite?”

Blaine shrugs. “Kind of, yeah. I guess.”

Kurt can't stop smiling at him, but at least Blaine is smiling right back at him.

**

Outside his house in the dark with the engine turned off, Kurt doesn't get out of the passenger seat immediately. He doesn't really want to yet, doesn't want the night to end.

“Thanks for driving me home,” he says, looks over at Blaine.

“You are very welcome,” Blaine answers. “Thank you for not laughing in my face when I said I wanted this to be a date.”

“Oh.” Kurt lowers his eyes, corner of his mouth twitching with a smile. “That was mostly because I'd actually been secretly hoping that maybe it might be.”

“Really?” Blaine asks, sounding very pleased about it.

Kurt is more than a little tempted to just lean over and kiss him, but instead he grins softly, unbuckles his seat belt, and finally opens the passenger side door. “I wouldn't mind doing it again, actually,” he says. “If you want to.”

Blaine opens his own door, nods at him. “I'll walk you to the door. And I'd _love_ to do it again.”

“I can find my own door Blaine,” Kurt points out, torn between amusement and simply finding Blaine way too charming for his own good.

“Shut up, I'm trying to be a gentleman,” Blaine laughs, and gets out of the car first.

They walk up the steps to the porch side by side, Kurt turning around to him once they're in front of his door, and this is straight out of every romantic movie he has ever seen but he doesn't actually care. He's never had a boy drive him home and walk him to the door, not without an ulterior motive at least.

“Thank you,” he says.

Blaine smiles, doesn't look away from him, says, “You're welcome.”

And Kurt feels almost hypnotized by his eyes, but happily so, Blaine looks beautiful in the dim light shining out of the small window next to the door. Which reminds him, he should definitely put 'repairing the porch light' on his to do list for the week...

“I should probably go,” Blaine says, voice low, but he's still not moving, just looking at him.

“I'll text you,” Kurt promises. “We can … make new plans, we didn't even get around to talking about NYADA yet and I have some outfit ideas for your audition if you don't mind me making some suggestions, I mean, you can just tell me any time if I start majorly overstepping -”

“Kurt?” Blaine says.

“Yeah?”

“Will you go out with me again this weekend?”

He grins, deflates a little, doesn't remember why he felt nervous just a second ago. “Yes.”

“Good. Because I really, really want to see you again,” Blaine says. “As soon as possible.”

“You'll see me in dance class either way,” Kurt reminds him.

“Well, yeah. But I want to see you in a context that does not involve me hopelessly bruising your toes with my clumsiness.”

“Um, Blaine?” Kurt raises an eyebrow at him. “Do we maybe need to include a theory lesson in your dance training? Because dancing doesn't actually involve stepping on people's toes, not really, if you thought you _had_ to do that all this time -”

Blaine laughs. “You're a jerk! And you totally know what I meant!”

“What I do know is that -”

He doesn't get any further because suddenly there are lips on his and he sucks a breath in through his nose, is only shocked for a moment before his arms raise and fall around Blaine's shoulders and he kisses back, eyes closed and heart going still and then jumping into action again in his chest.

Blaine pulls back entirely too soon and Kurt blinks at him, dazed. “What -”

“Sorry,” Blaine breathes, “Sorry, I -”

“Shut up already,” Kurt breathes back, and pulls him into another kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

He sits at the kitchen table Thursday morning and it's been hours now since Blaine dropped him off last night and he still can't stop smiling.

It's been hours, a good night's sleep between him and last night, a good hour or so of texting with Blaine before he ever even got to get any sleep at all, and it still feels fantastic and new and just so _overwhelmingly_ perfect.

He's been in New York for quite a while and whatever he expected from college, so far it has not been an unending stream of dates the way a number of movies had promised him when he was a teenager.

He _has_ dated a little, had a boyfriend for a few short months freshman year, went on a few more dates with other guys after they broke up. With a lot of those dates, he hasn't even made it as far as kissing, knowing half an hour in that it wasn't going anywhere. He's met a lot of nice guys, but the most he had ever really wished for with any of them had been friendship.

Kurt hasn't always been very good at getting exactly what he wanted on his first try, but he has always _known_ exactly what he wanted and never stopped trying to achieve it. And that goes for his education and his career as much as for his love life.

He doesn't know if Blaine is 'right for him,' whatever that even means. But he does know that he likes him. He really, really likes him, so much. For the first time in a long time, he has no problem at all imagining more than friendship with someone. He wants to spend more time with him and get to know him better and definitely, definitely kiss him again, many times if Blaine is okay with that.

He's just sort of forgotten just how wonderful kissing actually was, but he remembers now. 

And he keeps smiling down at his coffee cup and remembers the exact shape of his ridiculous eyebrows and the warm color of his beautiful eyes and the soft firmness of his lips and oh god his palms tingle and his insides get all fluttery when he thinks about him, he wants to spread out his arms and twirl on the spot and laugh and possibly float away with his feelings because he feels lighter than air with all the happiness filling him up until he wonders how he can contain it all.

It would have been enough to just be in his presence and admire him from afar and get to talk to him occasionally whenever Blaine needed questions answered about New York or college. But this – this is so much better.

Now he'll just have to wait until Friday before he'll see him again. But at least he knows there's going to be a lot of texting until then.

**

Friday he has to assist in teaching three afternoon classes back to back and he'll get out at five-thirty; enough time to rush home and shower and change before Blaine picks him up an hour later. They'll go to dinner again and even though Kurt had insisted that he'd be the one to pick up Blaine this time around, Blaine had disagreed.

_I get out of school at four. I have time to go home and even get bored before I have to leave. You have work and then you need to go change, and it's just easier if you let me do the driving. Stop arguing about this_ , his text reads.

_You make an excellent point, but we'll have to schedule the next date in a way that allows me to do the picking up, okay? I am feeling a slight imbalance developing here_ , he had replied.

Blaine had simply texted back: _Just the thought of getting to have a third date with you makes me very excited so there is no way I'm going to say no to that._

And then, half a minute later several texts in rapid succession: _And now I hope that you don't think I expect anything to happen on the third date, I wasn't referring to that, like THIRD DATE, I swear it's not like that!!!_

_Although maybe you hadn't even been reading that into it and I have only now made it creepy that way?_

_Not that the thought is creepy!_

_It's a very nice thought!_

_I like the thought!_

_Not as in “I'm constantly thinking about it,” I swear I am not!_

_I mean I think I want to, eventually, but we've been on one date so far._

_And oh my god maybe you don't even want to and I'm probably making it sound like it's all I'm thinking about and oh my god, I'm making it worse, right?_

_I'm not dating you because of that! I'm dating you because I really really like you._

_You know that, right?_

_I like you, Kurt. I like spending time with you._

_And I promise you that I'm not as weird as these texts probably make me seem._

_I'll shut up now and hope that I haven't completely freaked you out._

_I just really REALLY like you, Kurt. A lot._

Kurt remembers staring down at his phone, amused and too busy hiding half of his face behind one hand to respond for a moment.

_Blaine?_ he had written eventually.

_Yes?_

_I really, really like you too._

_Oh. I'm glad! :)_

_And I'm really looking forward to all of our dates!_

_Good! Same here!_

He'd smiled and felt happy and honestly, he can't remember ever being this excited about going on a date before. This is all new.

He likes it.

**

It's the fifteen-minute break between the second and third class when Kurt checks his phone in the changing room and notices seven missed calls from Carole in ten minutes, the last one less then three minutes ago.

His breath stops, his face goes cold, his palms start sweating.

Because why would Carole call him seven times at work, when she knows he's going to be home in an hour anyway, there can be only one reason...

No, he thinks as he hits the call back button with numb fingers, no no no no no no _no no no_

“Kurt,” Carole says, picking up on the fifth ring and her voice is distant, cool, controlled and he knows what it means he knows he knows

“What happened?” he asks, surprised when his own voice comes out steady.

“We're at the hospital,” she says. “He's in with the doctor right now, I called as soon as we got here -”

“Is he alive?”

“Yes. But I thought you might want to be here.”

“I'm on my way.”

“Don't drive! Get Hiram to drive you! You are not in any rush now, they're still checking him over. It might be a while yet.”

“Hiram has a class. I'll be fine. I'm leaving now.”

“Kurt, I swear to god,” Carole says, and suddenly her voice breaks, for just the tiniest moment before she catches herself again. “You will not drive here by yourself. You will ask someone to drop you off. I have Hiram's number and I'll be calling him right after we hang up. If you get behind the wheel right now and anything happens to you I don't care that you're twenty-one, I'm going to ground you into the next millennium.”

“Carole -” he says, and doesn't know what else to say, his dad's in the hospital and he has to be there _now_ and he doesn't have the time for this...

“Kurt! Don't drive!”

“I have to get there _now_.”

“Do _not_ drive, Hiram will drive you, I know he will, you can't – you _can't_ -”

“Okay,” he says, just to end this conversation already so he can get going, he has to _leave_. “Okay, I won't. I promise. I won't!”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“I'll be there soon,” he says and hangs up, and Hiram is already standing there holding his keys.

“Your dad?” he asks.

Kurt nods, lowers the hand holding his phone, breathes deeply once, twice, so he won't cry. “I have to go, I need to -”

“Come on,” Hiram says, waving him on and striding for the door.

“Your class -” Kurt starts.

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, holds the door for him. “Don't worry about that right now.”

Kurt looks at him, wants to argue, but they're losing valuable time and when he tries to take a step and his knees are shaking he admits that yes, okay, maybe driving isn't such a great idea right now.

Unable to say anything right then, he follows Hiram out to the car.

**

Carole gets up out of the plastic chair she'd been sitting in when he bursts into the waiting area, and he stops in his tracks, pants.

“Is he -”

“I haven't heard anything yet,” Carole says, shrugs helplessly.

And with a few steps he's there and hugging her and she's hugging him back and he hides his face against her shoulder.

Just a little while ago he'd been so grateful that he didn't have to go through it all by himself anymore. But right now, standing here not knowing anything, he still feels pretty damn alone.

**

“He was having trouble breathing,” she says, leans back in her chair as if she can't hold herself upright any longer. “He was starting to panic a bit and he was – he was sort of wheezing, I just – his heart muscle is weak, I was afraid that he – it could be – I just had to get him here, if he – if it's just – they can fix it -”

Kurt's sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, feeling … exhausted. He's tired and scared and he needs to know what's going on he needs to – he needs to - “He's been eating right,” he says. “He's been doing his exercises and getting his rest, I just – what went wrong?”

She shrugs, puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know, Kurt. He's sick. These things – they happen. It's not anything that could have necessarily been prevented by anything we did.”

“Where's the doctor? Why won't anyone _tell_ us anything?”

“They need to run their tests, they need to -”

“I only – I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” He rubs a hand over his face, sighs. “I'm -” He's shaking. He can't lose control right now. “Just a little nervous.”

“God, me too.” She lets out a long breath. “I had to drive him here. He wouldn't let me call an ambulance.”

“What?” He looks up at her, stunned. “He – I'm gonna have some words with him once he gets out of here.”

“He kept insisting that it was nothing, he didn't want to -”

“He had two heart attacks, I can't believe this!”

“Even when he started panicking. He kept saying that if it was nothing we'd have to take a cab home and it was a waste of money.”

“A waste of -” He puts both hands over his face, groans. “God _dammit_ , dad.”

“He's stubborn. Stubborn enough to pull through this, you know that.”

“He's had _two heart attacks_ already.”

She sighs. “I know.”

“Carole -” He's hanging on by a thread and he needs to get it together, they need to be able to take care of each other. “What if – what if – this can be really serious, right?”

She is silent for a moment, then continues rubbing his back in tiny, soothing circles. “Yes. It could be. But the waiting is the worst part,” she whispers. “I forgot about that. How did I forget about that?”

And he knows what she's talking about, he knows what she's afraid of, and he does wish he could help her, but … the pain is like a living, breathing thing inside of him and he can't contain it, can't even understand it. His _dad_...

His phone vibrates in his pocket and for a moment he's confused as he sees Blaine's name flashing up on his screen. Then he remembers, and he doesn't want to talk to anyone, he feels brittle and raw and like he's going to implode or dissolve on the floor or … But it's Blaine, and even though Kurt doesn't want to deal with this right now he knows that he has to.

“Hey,” he answers.

“Um, hi,” Blaine says, sounding very confused and a little irritated. “We said six-thirty, right?”

“Blaine -”

“Because, uh. It's six-forty-five and I'm outside your house where I have been waiting for fifteen minutes and no one is opening the door. Your car is gone too. So I guess I was just wondering -”

“Blaine, my dad's in the hospital,” Kurt manages, voice as steady as he can make it. “I didn't -”

“Oh my god,” Blaine breathes. “Kurt, I'm sorry, I -”

“I forgot to text you, I'm sorry, I didn't think – we've been waiting to hear something and I just -”

“Don't apologize,” Blaine says. “God, Kurt, don't – What can I do? What do you need? Do you need me to bring you anything? Tell me what you need and I'll do it, god, I'm so sorry -”

“It's okay, Blaine,” Kurt says. “I don't need anything. You can – you can just go home, I'm sorry about our date, I just can't, I need -”

“Are you alone there? You're not alone, right?”

“No, I'm – Carole is here. I'm fine.”

“- Is it bad?”

He breathes, and he can't keep his voice from shaking. “I don't know yet. It might be. I don't – I don't know.”

Blaine is quiet for a second, then says, voice low, “Do you need a hug? I'll start driving right now.”

“You can't drive all across town just for a hug.”

“Of course I can.”

“Blaine -”

“Unless you don't want me there. And you can be honest about that, we've been dating for, like, five minutes, I don't want to crowd you, I just – I want to help. If you need me, I'll be there; I just, I really want to hug you.”

Kurt breathes, breathes, hugs one arms around his chest and presses the phone closer to his ear with the other hand, closes his eyes to keep back the stupid, pointless tears. He does want Blaine. God, he wants him, it's crazy to want him here this much, but he can't help it, he is barely holding it together and he can't lose it in front of Carole who looks as pale and scared as he feels...

“I can't ask you for that. I can't -”

“You don't have to. You don't have to ask. I'll be right there,” Blaine says firmly. “Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be there.”

“Blaine -”

“I'll be there!”

“- Thank you!”

**

Carole has wandered off to find coffee. Kurt doesn't want anything right now, doesn't think he could keep it down anyway.

He's sitting hunched over in his chair when the door to the waiting area bursts open and he looks up, back straightening when he sees Blaine standing there, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily, probably from hurrying to get here.

“Kurt!” he says, starts toward him, and Kurt barely manages to lift himself from his chair and open his arms for him before Blaine is already in them, grabbing him in close.

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders and shudders and fists his hands in the back of his shirt – his knees are still weak but he's being held so tightly he couldn't fall if he wanted to.

“Blaine,” he breathes into the side of his neck, and squeezes his eyes closed. “Thank you.”

“I drove as fast as I could,” Blaine whispers. “I'm so sorry, I – Do you know anything yet?”

Kurt shakes his head, lets himself sink a little further into the embrace. “Can't be much longer now though. It's just – it can't be much longer now.”

“Do you need anything?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt pulls back, does his best to smile at him even if his insides are still twisting with fear. “No. I already got my hug. I really needed that.”

“You can have as many hugs as you want.”

He tilts his forehead against Blaine's and it's insane to feel so comforted by his presence when they have known each other for so short a time. He doesn't care. “I can't believe you came here. You're crazy.”

“I'm here for as long as you need me.”

“Blaine, I can't ask you to -”

Blaine calmly takes his face between his hands, covers Kurt's lips with his own in a soft, gentle kiss. “Kurt,” he says. “You're not asking. I'm offering.”

“But you don't have to -”

“I _want_ to. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

Kurt pauses, knows he should argue, tell Blaine he doesn't have to stay, they've been on _one_ date, been hanging out just a little longer than that, he shouldn't – He can't send him away, not when having him here feels so good.

“I don't know how I can ever make this up to you.”

Blaine shrugs. “I'm not doing this so you'll repay me. I'm here because I really, really care about you.”

Kurt pulls him back into another hug and he hasn't been able to fight this feeling when things were relatively okay. If it's a mistake to be feeling so much when he's with Blaine, he can regret it later. Right now, he just wants to get through the next few hours.

He's still holding onto Blaine tightly when Carole comes back around the corner, cup of coffee in hand, pausing as she sees the two boys hugging.

“Carole,” he says, pulls back but makes sure to keep a hand on Blaine's back – it makes him feel grounded. “This is Blaine.”

The smile can't quite ease the worry lines from her face, but she holds out a hand anyway and Blaine takes it.

“Blaine,” she says. “It's so nice to finally put a face to a name. Kurt has been talking about you a lot.”

Even with the entire world in disarray, he still manages to blush. “Blaine, this is Carole, my wicked stepmother,” he says, “Whose new mission in life seems to be to embarrass me.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Blaine says.

Carole nods. “It's really nice of you to be here for Kurt.”

“It's not a problem,” Blaine says earnestly. “I'm here to help. Anything you need, just let me know.”

Carole smiles at him, then gives Kurt a warm look before sitting back down in her abandoned plastic chair and checking her watch. “I really could use some good news right about now.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, leads Blaine back over to the row of chairs to sit down beside Carole. “Same.”

She sighs and lets her head drop to Kurt's shoulder, exhausted, and he drapes an arm around her shoulders to offer whatever little comfort he has to give in return. On his other side, Blaine sits as close as the chairs bolted to the floor allow, tightly holding on to his hand. Kurt smiles at him and Blaine's eyes are concerned, warm, filled with affection.

Kurt doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want any of this to be happening. But if it has to be happening at all, he is, at least, not alone for it this time.

He thinks back to being in this hospital years ago, on his own, young and lost and so afraid, the only people by his side his teachers because the friends he had were so new and they didn't really understand, and he didn't really understand how to _let_ them help. And his dad and Carole had still been so new back then, together for only such a short amount of time, and he hadn't known how much he could count on her, hadn't known if he could trust her.

Now, he's still young and still lost and still afraid. But at least he's surrounded by the people who care about him. There's Carole, a part of his family, sharing the burden of everything; and there may be shared burdens that weigh just as heavily as one carried alone, but at least someone else is there to understand the weight of it. And then there's a boy who cares about him enough to be here and hold his hand, a boy who doesn't hesitate driving all across town and entering a hospital waiting room just to give him a hug. He's not alone, and even if that doesn't make the fear any less acute, it still feels good to know that.

Now the only other thing he has to know is what the _hell_ is wrong with his dad so he can put a name to the fear. Nameless fear is the most paralyzing fear of all.

It's another fifteen minutes almost before a doctor finally appears through the doors they're not allowed through – Kurt remembers these doors well from previous hospital visits and he has never stopped loathing them, has never forgotten the fear of sitting on the waiting side of them.

They stand up almost as one, limbs unfolding in near perfect synchrony. Distantly, Kurt thinks that if the occasion were less serious, he'd probably be amused by the random, unintentional beauty of the movement.

“Doctor?” Carole asks.

He can't begin to emphasize enough how grateful he is to have her here to do the talking for once – not that he's not capable of it, but it feels good not having to be in charge every second of every moment.

“He's stable,” the doctor says, and Kurt feels his knees want to buckle, grips Blaine's hand tighter in his own. It's relief, mostly, and fatigue, and the frustration of the endless dragging moment, he wants the entire explanation all at once; wants to know: why was this evening necessary for any of them?

“Then what happened?” he asks, realizes, on the edge of his consciousness, that he doesn't even know the doctor's name yet.

“You did the right thing, bringing him in when you did,” the doctor says to Carole, and Kurt squints his eyes at his name tag, it says 'Franklin.'

“Thank you,” she says, twisting her hands tightly together. “What's wrong with him?”

Dr. Franklin's face stays carefully neutral as he looks at them, and Kurt wonders how long he had to practice for this kind of thing. “Pulmonary edema,” he says.

“I was afraid of that,” Carole replies.

Kurt just stares. “Excuse me, but – what?”

“Fluid in his lungs,” Carole explains.

“We put him on oxygen and are giving him diuretics, he's responding well and it really was good that you rushed him here, we were able to help quickly,” Dr. Franklin assures them, smiling at Kurt.

“Fluid in his lungs sounds – it doesn't sound good,” Kurt says. “It – what does it -”

“Untreated, it's a life-threatening condition, yes,” the doctor tells him. “But now that we have him here, we can help him. And we are helping him.”

“Does he have to stay here?” Kurt wants to know, chest too tight, _life-threatening condition. Dammit, dad._

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Franklin says. “But yes. For a few days at least. We'll know more soon, for now he has to stay on oxygen and we put him on a drip. But really. He's going to be fine.”

Kurt leans into Blaine, breathes, breathes, asks, “Can I see him? Please?” It's like … the world is spinning, too fast, too fast, and he has to see him, it's not enough to hear it, he has to _see_ that his father is alive and well and that he didn't lose him.

“Of course,” the doctor says. “Yes, you can see him.”

Kurt nods, closes his eyes, feels Blaine squeeze his hand and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I'll wait out here, okay?” he whispers.

He turns his face so their foreheads bump off each other as Carole is talking with the doctor a few steps away, keeps his eyes closed. “Blaine – thank you. Just. Thank you!”

“I'm glad he's gonna be okay, Kurt,” Blaine says. “I'm really glad.”

He opens his eyes, wants to cry with relief, swallows down the tears. “Yeah. I'm really glad too.”

“Go see him,” Blaine says, smiles. “I'll be here when you're done. I'll take you home.”

“You don't have to wait for me. You – I'm okay now. I'll be okay. I can drive home with Carole. You don't have to stay.”

“I don't mind waiting,” Blaine promises. “Unless you want me to leave. But if you have no objections I'd like to -” he smiles, a little shy, a little crooked. “- end our 'date' the proper way by dropping you off in front of your house.”

“As far as dates go, I guess this was a bit unconventional, huh?” Kurt asks, feels the laughter deep inside, too weak to make it all the way out, but god he's so _grateful_ to not be left on his own.

“I don't mind unconventional,” Blaine assures him.

_You're kind of amazing_ , he wants to say, instead tilts their foreheads together one more time, squeezes his fingers. “I won't be long.”

“Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you,” he says, again, and finally lets go of his hand to walk through those loathed doors right into the belly of the beast, where his father is still breathing. Weak and in a hospital bed, but still breathing. Still alive.

Small victories. He's really come to appreciate them, those last few years.


	5. Chapter 5

It's not even that late by the time they pull up in Kurt's driveway, and he bites his lip, stares ahead as Blaine cuts the engine. He's exhausted, but at the same time feeling strangely wired, restless, like he should be doing something but forgot what it was.

“Hey, are you okay?” Blaine asks, concern in his voice.

Kurt looks over at him. “Yeah,” he says. “I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm just -” he shrugs. “It's been a long day.”

Blaine nods. “Of course. You'll let me know if there's anything more I can do, right? Whatever it is, just call me.”

“Blaine.” He smiles at him, can't hold it back. “You've done so much already.”

“That's what friends are for,” Blaine reminds him warmly, and Kurt has to laugh. It feels good. He's not sure he should be laughing right now, but the events of the day have drained him to a stage past exhaustion and even if he's still so scared he feels cold deep down, he's also relieved – he's seen his dad and held his hand and the doctors had seemed optimistic. Right now, he's too tired to hold onto the fear, rides the waves of his emotions as they come as if in a dream.

He looks at Blaine, his beautiful, concerned eyes, the soft smile playing around his lips, and he feels his heart beating faster in his chest, feels the warmth bubble up deep inside and fuck it, it's been a hell of a day and this is not the time to have this conversation, but he's too weak tonight not to ask this question. He has to be sure.

“We're not just friends anymore though, are we?”

Blaine smiles a little wider, lowers his head a little, looks so pleased. “No,” he whispers. “No, if you want to, then we are definitely more.”

Kurt reaches over to take his hand, linking their fingers together. “I want to if you want to.”

Fingers tightening through his, Blaine meets his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of Kurt's hand. “I'd really like that.”

“Do you want to come inside for a moment? If we'd actually gone out, I probably would have offered you a cup of coffee before letting you drive home.”

Blaine hesitates. “You don't have to – It's been a long day and I'd understand if you wanted to be by yourself for a bit now.”

Kurt squeezes his hand, pauses. He doesn't want to be by himself. He doesn't want to sit and think, he wants to be distracted. And he knows Carole's tired, and left to themselves they'll probably just make each other afraid again because they'll _know_ what the other is really thinking about.

The day has left him shaken, cracked open, emotions driven to the surface, impossible to be contained any longer. It's like someone has taken a wooden spoon and vigorously stirred his feelings like the contents of a saucepan and they're swirling and mixing and he can't grab onto a single one for more than a moment until they decide to settle.

And Blaine seems constant and unmoving and safe right now, and he knows it's probably not fair to need him this much, to rely on him this much, but right now, he can't look away from him. He'll lose himself again if he does.

Tomorrow, he'll visit his dad. Tomorrow, he'll talk to him, really talk to him, the way he hasn't yet since he came back here.

But tomorrow is a long way away and he doesn't want to put more on Blaine than is fair, but he needs to not be alone, he needs to just not be alone right now.

“I don't want to keep you if you have to go,” he tells Blaine, because Blaine has been amazing today and Blaine has his own problems. “But thank you for coming to the hospital!”

“Kurt?” Blaine says, searching his eyes. “Do you _want_ me to stay? Because I don't actually want to go, but I'm going to if you need me to leave.”

He shouldn't, he shouldn't, but tonight he just doesn't find it in himself to turn down a nice offer like that. “I can make you a cup of coffee,” he says. “Or I think we still have some cake -”

“You don't have to bribe me,” Blaine says. “I told you. I want to stay.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, and leans over to kiss him.

**

They decide against coffee because Blaine is worried Kurt won't be getting any sleep if he drinks a stimulant this late in the evening, and Kurt is both touched by his concern and also more than ready to admit that Blaine is probably right.

They make hot chocolate instead, offering a cup to Carole who got home just before them. She declines, excuses herself to go to bed instead.

So Kurt sits at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around his mug, Blaine beside him close enough that their shoulders are touching. He's feeling exhausted and strangely restless at the same time.

“So,” he starts, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands instead of looking at Blaine. “Quite eventful for a second date, huh?”

Blaine presses a little closer to him, hums softly. “Definitely not a typical kind of dinner-and-a-movie type of night, no.”

He nods. “I really have to apologize. I'll make it up to you.”

Blaine shakes his head firmly. “This was not your fault and you need to stop apologizing. I'm just glad it all turned out all right.”

“I'm just sorry our plans got derailed like this. I know it wasn't what you had in mind.”

“No, Kurt, no,” Blaine moves his hand across the table top, gently tugs at Kurt's fingers until he lets go of the mug, then slides their palms together and folds his fingers through Kurt's. “Please, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm just sorry that you have to go through all of this, it's not fair, and I mean it when I say that I just want to be here for you.”

Kurt bites his lip and lets Blaine hold his hand, his grip so firm, so sure, and he feels his eyes sting. How can Blaine just be here and care like this and offer so much of himself when they have known each other for two weeks, and Kurt can hardly be in the same room with his father who has raised him and loved him and cared for him his entire life?

“Blaine -” he says, doesn't know how to continue. He's just so tired, he's so very tired...

“Are you sure you're okay?” Blaine asks, squeezing his hand and leaning in to try and catch his eyes.

“Yeah, I'm – I will be. It's just been a long day.”

“You don't have to be okay, you know?” Blaine tells him. “Not right now. No one could blame you if you weren't.”

Kurt shakes his head, rubs his right eye with his free hand. “I just – really don't like hospitals.”

“And with everything that happened, that is completely understandable,” Blaine assures him.

“It's just … I feel so _useless_. I can't help him. I can't do anything.”

“You are here,” Blaine reminds him. “You came back to Lima to be with him. I'm sure that helps him. Making people know you care about them helps them.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Kurt says, sighs. And it's late and he's still scared and he knows he needs to admit this to _someone_. He can't tell Carole, though, because she has her own stuff to deal with. He can't burden her with his inadequacies. “You know how I told you that last time this happened it was just me and him?” 

He doesn't actually expect Blaine to remember, but Blaine nods, thumb caressing the back of Kurt's hand. “Yes. I do.”

Kurt takes a deep breath, but it doesn't make him feel any less shaky. “My mom died when I was eight. In the same hospital my dad is in right now.”

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine says softly, presses their arms together more closely. “I'm so sorry.”

“I want to say that it was the worst day of my life,” he continues, stares straight ahead without seeing anything. “But I actually barely remember it at all. Just … they wouldn't let me see her. And when they told me she was gone, I – I don't remember much after that. The next few days are a blur. I don't really know what happened.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine whispers, “I'm sorry, Kurt.”

“I remember her funeral, though,” he says. “ _That_ might actually have been the worst day. Because it was the day I _understood_. The day it really hit me. That she wasn't coming back. That I didn't have a mom anymore.”

Blaine leans into him and softly strokes his hand with his thumb and it is so comforting, so soothing, and Kurt has no idea how he does it.

“But at least I had my dad,” Kurt explains. “It didn't change what had happened, but at least I still had him. And then when I grew up and I wasn't – I wasn't like the other little boys. I, um. I liked to sing, I didn't want to join a sports team, and I know he didn't get the way I dressed. But he loved me anyway. I was so afraid that he wouldn't. But he did. He loved me. And he supported me. Unconditionally. I -” A sob rises in his throat and he has to close his mouth, swallow hard to keep the tears down.

“He sounds wonderful,” Blaine says quietly.

“When he had his first heart attack, it felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me,” Kurt says. “He was in a coma. For days. He just – wouldn't wake up. And I rarely left the hospital. I … couldn't. I couldn't leave him. I had to go to school, but I always went straight back to him afterward.”

“You must have been really scared.”

“I was terrified,” he admits. “And I felt like – if those were his last days, I didn't want to waste a second with him, whether he knew I was there or not.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Blaine says.

“But he woke up,” Kurt says. “I got him back. And what's more, our family got bigger not long afterward, he married Carole.”

“Did you like getting a step mom?”

He nods. “I was actually the one to set them up. And then I tried to split them up again, it was all very dramatic.” He risks a glance at Blaine, attempts a crooked grin. “You should have been there.”

“You set them up?”

“Carole had a son,” he says, and closes his eyes for a second. “Finn. He was my age. Tall, a bit awkward, but deep down one of the kindest people I have ever known. I used to have a crush on him,” he says. “I got over that pretty quickly, but my dad and Carole just sort of hit it off immediately. And Finn and I – he became my brother. Not just on paper. He was … he was my brother.”

Blaine swallows, eyes serious. “What happened?”

Kurt shrugs. “He died.”

“Oh, Kurt -”

“I just – I know, rationally, all these things have nothing to do with each other. And I know I'd still be scared if my dad was in the hospital now and all of this stuff hadn't happened, but -”

“No,” Blaine says quickly. “No, Kurt, that is – god, I can't even imagine. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry, Kurt, that is completely unfair and you shouldn't have to be scared again. But hey, your dad is going to be okay, right? He's going to be fine. He's going to come home in a few days and he's going to be all right.”

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and doesn't cry, he can't cry... “I know. I know. Yes. I know.”

“God, I wish -” Blaine breaks off, shrugs helplessly. “I want to do something for you. What can I do? I wish I could _help_ you -”

“Blaine,” he says, flickers a very small smile at him. “You are helping. You – god, you have done so much. Don't you know that? You're helping me right now by being here.”

“It's really the least I can do.”

Kurt pauses, because isn't this the very core of his problem? The one thing he cannot stop struggling with... “I wish I could do the same for my dad.” He lets out a breath, feels small with shame.

“What do you mean?”

“It's just that -” He thinks about it, tries to find the words. “Ever since I got back? I haven't really _been_ here. You know. I keep not talking to him about all the things that are important. I am almost grateful every time I can leave the house. I make him healthy breakfasts and I share the room with him when he watches TV, but that's all it is, just sharing space, it's not – I just feel, I feel -”

“Disconnected?” Blaine offers quietly.

He nods. “Yeah. Pretty much. And I know he can tell how uncomfortable I am. And it's not fair to him. It's not fair that I can't put those stupid feelings aside and just _be_ there for him. The way I know he would be there for me. I wouldn't have survived being a teenager in this town without him. And now I can't have a proper conversation with him because I'm … what, scared?”

“It's okay to be scared.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “But he's the one with the busted heart. I think he has the claim on being scared right now. The rest of us should be there for him.”

“You are there for him.”

“I don't _feel_ like I am. I'm not _doing_ enough.”

“You gave up an amazing internship in New York to spend months in this town teaching the waltz to middle-aged accountants,” Blaine says. “If that doesn't mean that you love your dad than I don't know what does.”

“I could try to have an actual conversation with him,” Kurt says. “I could make him feel like I want to be spending time with him.”

“Have you considered telling him what you're scared of?”

“He knows,” Kurt says. “I'm sure he knows. He must know.”

Blaine smiles, squeezes his fingers. “Maybe that would be a good place to start the conversation.”

Kurt hesitates, wants to argue, considers it and – deflates a little, mouth twitching with a tired little smile. “Maybe you're right.”

“Just trying to help.”

“You _are_ helping.”

“I'm glad.”

**

They move to the couch where they cuddle up to drink the rest of their hot chocolate, TV set to a low volume in the background.

“You know,” Blaine says quietly. “There are not too many people who would essentially put their lives on hold to do what you are doing. You do know that, right?”

Kurt shrugs, leans his head on Blaine's warm shoulder. “I just. Never want to see the inside of another hospital ever again.”

Blaine rests his cheek against Kurt's hair, just breathes there for a while. “My grandfather was in the hospital last year,” he says. “I love my grandfather. My mom's dad. And mom was really upset and even my brother flew in from LA to visit him.”

Kurt puts his cup down on the coffee table, slides his arms around Blaine's waist. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” Blaine says. “The point is – my entire family came together from all over the country. They all spent days sitting by his bedside. And at the same time, it took me five days to even set foot in the hospital. My grandfather was the one who gave me my first piano lessons. He bought me my first guitar. He taught me how to tie a bow tie and he is the one paying most of my tuition for Dalton, I couldn't go there if it wasn't for him, my parents could never afford it on their own.”

“Blaine -”

“So, you know, it's really not that I don't love him or that I don't care,” Blaine continues. “I _wanted_ to be there with him. I wanted that so much. I felt awful for not being able to see him. But I was … really, _really_ scared.”

“It's always scary when a loved one gets sick,” Kurt says, rests his forehead against the side of Blaine's face.

“It wasn't that, though,” Blaine says. “I wasn't just scared for _him_. That's the worst part. I couldn't go inside that hospital because of _me_ , because the last time I'd been in there before, I was the one in the hospital bed and I didn't want to relive that memory.”

He looks up at that, keeps his arms firmly around Blaine. “What happened?”

“Oh just,” he sighs. “I went to this school dance with my friend when I was fifteen and – he was really just a friend, but some guys took offense anyway and beat the shit out of us in the parking lot.” He shrugs as if it was nothing, face kept carefully neutral.

Kurt gasps. “Oh my god, Blaine -”

“It was – I'm fine now. Yeah, it was … scary, and it was like – it hurt. It really … messed me up, for a while. It's also why I'll be nineteen by the time I graduate, I had to repeat the school year when I transferred to Dalton.”

“I had no idea,” Kurt breathes. “I – Blaine, that's -”

“And, um. If I step on your toes more than usual in dance class it's because my left ankle is still a little weak,” he says. “I'm sorry, I should probably have told you that sooner.”

“Blaine, no, that's – you don't _have_ to tell me anything -”

“I just wanted you to know,” Blaine says, “That being scared is okay. It is not always something that we can control. And I get why this is difficult for you. I mean, I am not comparing war injuries here, that's not what this is about. I just – I get it. And Kurt, you are so much braver than you think you are. It took me five days to visit my grandfather. You are just facing all of your fears head-on and I just want you to know how much I admire that. How much I admire _you_. Please, please don't think of yourself as weak.”

He swallows, holds him, holds his gaze, and Blaine's eyes are sure and steady and calm on his, but Kurt can see the way his lips are set firm and tight, can feel the pounding of his heart where his arm is draped over his chest. And he doesn't know what to say.

“You just spent an entire evening sitting in a hospital waiting room with me.”

Blaine nods. “Yes.”

“- And you think that _I'm_ the brave one here? Blaine, you didn't have to do that for me. Oh god, Blaine … Are _you_ okay? I didn't know – If I had known -”

“I'm fine, Kurt,” Blaine says, and smiles. “I promise. Hospitals are still not my favorite place to be, but – I'm okay.”

“You _really_ didn't have to do that for me.”

“But I really wanted to do it for you. I do care about you. ...A lot, actually.”

“Blaine -” His throat feels too tight and he doesn't know what to feel, it's too much, too much, and he doesn't deserve it, but _god_ he's so, so grateful for it, for _him_ , for this boy who put his own fears aside just to hold his hand. “I really care about you too,” he whispers. “And I really can't believe you did this for me!”

Blaine lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and the way he looks at him makes Kurt feel warm all the way down to his toes. “Kurt,” is all he says, before he leans in for the kiss.

The kiss is gentle and slow and innocent and the most intimate thing he's ever felt in his life; he can't remember having ever been kissed like this before.

Or maybe that's just because it's Blaine.

Kurt keeps his eyes firmly closed and holds onto him as Blaine pulls him closer, arms firmly around Kurt's back, and, god, falling in love with Blaine is just far too easy.

**

It's Blaine who finally breaks their kiss and pulls back, and when Kurt opens his eyes, orients himself, he is almost surprised to find himself on his back on the couch, Blaine heavy and warm on top of him. He's breathing heavily and his fingers are tight in Blaine's shirt, Blaine's hands in his hair, fingers gently massaging his scalp.

“We should -” Blaine breathes, clears his throat. “We should probably stop.”

He doesn't want to stop, he doesn't want to have to let go. He doesn't want Blaine to move, all he wants is to stay right here under Blaine all night, it feels so good, so safe. So warm and soothing to his frayed nerves.

“Yeah,” he says. “We should.”

Blaine's hands disappear from his hair and he wants to whimper, wants to hold on tighter and keep him right there on top of him as Blaine starts pushing himself up and off.

“It's late. I should go.”

And Kurt has kept him long enough, Blaine does need to go home, he can't be selfish and ask him to stay any longer than this. It's been a long day, an emotional day, and he's not going to take advantage of Blaine's kindness by rushing him into something he isn't ready for. Something they are probably both not entirely ready for, no matter what his body is telling him right now.

It's just that Blaine smells so good and he's so warm and so solid and it's not as if Kurt has that much experience to draw from, it's not as if he has ever rushed into anything with anyone before, he's had _one_ boyfriend and they only had sex a handful of times before they broke up, and really, they barely did anything at all together. But right now, he just … wants. He wants Blaine more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life and he's been scared so much today, but this feeling doesn't scare him. At all.

He still cannot act on it and he knows it, he'd be taking advantage, of both Blaine and himself. He knows himself well enough to know that he's not going to be making many rational decisions in his current emotional state.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asks, sits up after Blaine.

Blaine nods, opens his mouth to speak, hesitates before surging in for another kiss, and another, and Kurt sags against him, greedily taking whatever Blaine is willing to give.

“I can't seem to stop kissing you,” Blaine whispers, hands sliding back into Kurt's hair to hold his face close to his own.

_I don't want you to stop_ , Kurt thinks, but he can't say it, can't do anything but press in to get Blaine's lips back against his. He feels _hungry_ for him, needy, insatiable, every cell in his body straining to be closer, to get more of him, to be saturated with the warm comfort of his presence, all he wants is Blaine Blaine _Blaine_.

“Please call me when you get home?” he asks, forcing himself to pull back, to put enough air between their faces so he can talk to him. “Just so I know you got there okay.”

“It's just a fifteen-minute drive,” Blaine points out.

“Please,” Kurt whispers, he can't be rational tonight, he can't worry about anything else tonight, knows his brain is making too big a deal of everything but he can't help it.

“Of course,” Blaine promises, voice low, hands still cupping his face so, so gently. “I'll call you. I promise.”

“And I promise you another date, if you want one,” Kurt says. “A better one. With so much less drama.”

“What do you mean, if I want one?” Blaine laughs softly, nuzzles their faces together. “I'd take you on another date right now if we weren't both so exhausted and if any restaurants in Lima were actually still open at this hour.”

“What time is it?” Kurt asks, realizes he hasn't checked a watch since they came back here.

Blaine shrugs a little. “Almost midnight.”

“Oh my god.” He lifts his head at that, covers Blaine's hands on his face with his own. “I didn't even – when did it get so late?”

“I guess we got a little carried away,” Blaine says, smiling bashfully.

“I guess we did.”

“But I have to say,” Blaine says, smile going wider, “I really do enjoy making out. I definitely wouldn't mind doing that again.”

“You're really good at it,” Kurt tells him.

“So are you.”

He kisses him again, holds his hand as they get up and leads him to the door, hugs him in close once Blaine has his shoes on and is ready to leave.

“You'll be okay, right?” Blaine asks, softly.

Kurt nods. “Yes. Thank you again.”

“Call me if you need _anything_.”

“Call me once you get home. Or text me. Just – just so I know.”

“Of course. I will. If course!”

He holds him, breathes him in, and they've known each other for two weeks but he knows he has never felt this way about anyone before.

“You're amazing, Blaine,” he whispers, tightens his arms around him.

“So are you,” Blaine whispers back, and kisses his neck.

Kurt closes his eyes and lets himself be held until Blaine really finally has to go home.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt wakes up the next day knowing there's going to be another visit to the hospital, a talk with a doctor, an adjustment to his dad's diet and exercise routine and medication. He assumes it's what life is going to be like to a huge extent from now on. His dad is not a healthy man, and while he does seem to be recovering, there is really no telling when the next thing is going to go wrong.

He spends too much time that morning cleaning the kitchen after breakfast, leaves it to Carole to pack a bag for his dad to take to the hospital for him. He'll want a few of his own things. Who knows how many days they'll have to keep him in that hospital bed.

Kurt keeps his phone close by because Blaine keeps texting him, and even if he knows he has to be with his family today, _wants_ to be with his family today, he still likes having this connection with Blaine throughout the day. He still feels like he needs him, feels greedy for him, can't quite stop himself from counting the minutes to their next kiss.

Tomorrow, he tells himself. Hang in there until tomorrow and you can have more Blaine, just get by until tomorrow.

He has the weekend off from work – another perk of working for someone who knows you and cares about you. And he tries very hard to be grateful for the break, tries not to wish he could leave this house and forget for just an hour or two. Because as much as he wants to forget all of this and not have to deal with it, being here is all he wants at the same time.

“Ready to go?” Carole asks, standing in the kitchen doorway with a travel bag full of his dad's stuff.

He puts down the all-purpose cleaner, lets his eyes roam over the freshly polished surfaces. At least the house is spotless thanks to the events of yesterday – creating order outwardly has always helped him to achieve a sense of calm on the inside as well.

“Ready,” he confirms.

They don't talk much in the car; Kurt doesn't know how to start a conversation today, doesn't know what to say to her. More than ever he's aware of how essential she has become not only to his dad but to him as well. Carole is family. He'd be lost without her. He hopes she doesn't take his silence the wrong way, but he simply cannot find the words right now.

His dad is awake when they enter his room, nodding at something the nurse is saying to him from where she's adjusting something on the tray next to his bed.

“Hey dad,” Kurt says, carefully closing the door behind them, and his dad turns his head, smiles.

Kurt waits, hands in his pockets, standing next to the door as Carole walks over with sure steps to take his father's hand and press a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“How are you feeling?” she asks him, and he squeezes her hand.

“I'm fine.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him and Carole sighs, shakes her head. “Okay. And how are you _really_ feeling?”

He laughs. “Like I'm in a hospital bed while my family is worried about me yet again. I just wish I could be home with you guys.”

“Burt, this was not nothing,” Carole says, looking down at him sternly, and he stares back at her as if to argue.

The nurse clears her throat, looking between them. “I'll get out of your hair,” she says, quickly makes for the door, giving Kurt a quick but gentle smile in passing.

He smiles back tightly, feeling jittery and young and completely overwhelmed with the reality of their situation now that they're here in the hospital, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and walls painted in a weird lime green that makes him want to close his eyes and cry with how much it emphasizes that this is not home. None of this is as it should be.

His dad and Carole keep talking in overly calm voices as soon as the three of them are alone in the room, his father insisting that he's fine and Carole disagreeing politely, reminding him that he's in a hospital and they have the right to be concerned about him. It's not a fight, he knows that. His dad knows they're concerned and they both know that his dad has a tendency for downplaying his own illness. Today, it still rubs him the wrong way, like salt in an open wound. This is not something to be downplayed and to laugh about. This is his father's life.

He keeps standing awkwardly a few feet away from the bed and keeps quiet – he doesn't know what to say, only knows that he suddenly feels drained, tired, raw from the fright and stress of the previous day. It's just all too much.

“Well anyway,” Carole informs him in a firm voice as Kurt makes himself listen to them again, “I'm going to find your doctor and talk to him and we'll have this cleared up in no time.”

“Carole -” Burt starts, but she shakes her head and squeezes his arm.

“Don't argue.”

He deflates visibly, smiles at her softly. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Good.” With another smile at him she turns on her heels and is walking from the room, and as the door clicks softly closed behind her, Kurt suddenly finds himself all alone with his father.

For a second, it's awkward. He just doesn't know what to say. Shouldn't he know what to say to his own father? But he just – can't.

“You okay buddy?” his dad asks, and Kurt meets his eyes, jolted from his thoughts, feels overwhelmingly guilty at the worried look on his father's face.

“I should be the one to ask you that,” he points out, shrugs.

“I'm fine.”

“Dad!”

“I know. I'm sorry. But I want to be fine. I'm really sorry I keep doing this to you, I wish -”

“We all know you didn't do it on purpose,” Kurt tells him, finally gets his feet to obey him and walk over the few steps to the chair next to his dad's bed. He sits down carefully on the edge of it. “I know this wasn't an evil plot of yours to get fluid in your lungs and have to be put on oxygen. I know that.”

“I'd definitely prefer to stay out of the hospital from now on,” his dad confirms.

Kurt nods. “I'd prefer that too. I really would.”

His dad pauses, looks at him with his head resting back against the pillow that props him up, eyes unreadable. “Kurt, are you okay?”

He shrugs, bites his lip, studies his hands that he has folded in his lap. And he knows it's no use trying to fool his father, there's no one who knows him better. After the past day, he knows there's no sense in pretending anymore, there's no use trying to act like this isn't real. This is real. It's real and it's scary and he doesn't want any of it. But in his entire life, he has never run from a fight. Not even when it would have been smarter to do so. This time, he knows it's necessary that he face his fears head on.

“I'm scared, dad.”

His father nods, sighs. “I know, kiddo. And I didn't mean to end up here again. I -”

“That's not what I -” Kurt breaks off, takes a shaky breath, lifts his eyes to meet his dad's. “Dad, I just don't know what to do.”

“You don't have to do anything, Kurt.”

“I feel like I _can't_ do anything,” Kurt admits. “I don't like that. And – I feel like I am the one who should be apologizing to you.”

His father looks stunned. “What? Kurt you have nothing to -”

“I've been distant,” Kurt keeps talking, afraid he won't find the courage again if he stops now. “And I know it. I didn't want to be, but – I couldn't help it. I didn't know what to do. I came back here to be there for you, and then I just -”

“I know why you came back here,” his dad interrupts. “And you know I appreciate you being here and taking care of your old father, but you know I wouldn't have asked it of you, I never -”

“You shouldn't have to ask,” Kurt cuts him off. “You should never have to ask for this. For any of this, really. We are your family, Carole and I. We're here for you. Well. _She_ is. I haven't been. But I'm going to be now, dad. I promise you that. I want to be.”

“I have to admit,” Burt says, still looking at him, “that I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. You gave up that internship that you really wanted to come back here the minute Carole called you. I feel bad enough for that. Are you telling me that you still think it isn't enough?”

“We haven't even really talked since I got back,” Kurt says quietly, and suddenly he feels unsure.

“We can talk now, if you want,” his dad offers. “You know I'm here for you if you want to talk.”

“That's not what I mean,” Kurt says. “What I mean is – dad, if it had been me, if I were the one being sick, you'd be there for me.”

“So who's the one making sure I eat right and taking care of keeping the garage running while I'm sitting around on my ass uselessly?” his dad asks.

“I've always told you what to eat,” Kurt reminds him. “Even before all of this. And as for the garage, you could easily put one of your people in charge, you don't need me for that.”

“And yet you're still here doing it,” his dad reminds him.

“Because it's all I _can_ do,” Kurt points out. “Everything else is just -” he shrugs helplessly, grimaces. “I'm sorry, dad.”

“Kurt.” His father struggles to sit up and Kurt is out of his chair in a second to push him back down onto the bed.

“What do you think you're doing, you have to -”

His father sinks back into his pillow, opens his mouth to argue, then deflates, grins instead. “See?” he says. “This is exactly what I mean.”

“I don't understand.”

“Do you honestly think you're not doing enough? Kurt, we've been taking care of each other for years. Hell, even when you were a little kid I sometimes wasn't sure which of us was the parent, you've always been ordering me around and making sure that I was eating my vegetables and taking my shoes off by the door.”

“You wouldn't do it otherwise.”

“But it's always been this way, Kurt,” he points out. “So what are you saying? I'm gonna think you don't wanna be here because this is hard on you and you need some time to yourself sometimes?”

“I don't want you to think that I don't _want_ to be here, dad,” he says, voice a little choked. “I do want to be here.”

“I know that, kiddo,” his dad says, taking his hand, staring him down until Kurt sits back down in his chair. “Of course I know that.”

“I don't always feel like I do,” Kurt admits.

“We got each other's backs, right?” his dad asks. “We always had. We're a team, you and me.”

Kurt nods. “We are. Of course we are!”

“Good. Because that means you're allowed to take a break sometimes too. You know? You always take care of me, Kurt. But it's hard, never getting a break from this. It's a lot. I know that.”

“You don't get a break from it either.”

His dad laughs. “Of course I do. I'm feeling okay most days. And those times we're just sitting together and watching TV or talking or whatever, of course I get a break. This sucks, it really does, but we can't let it take the good things from us. Okay?”

“I don't want to lose the good things,” Kurt agrees. Isn't that the whole problem? He doesn't want to lose any of the things they have as a family. Not any more than they have already lost, he's so _tired_ of loss. And he knows it never ends, but he can't lose his dad, not yet, not for a long time. He just can't.

“Then stop being so hard on yourself,” his dad says. “You've never let me down, Kurt. Not once. And you're not doing it now. You can stay in Lima and fuss over me and tell me what to eat and when to exercise until your internship is over. You can boss me around all you want and you know I'm gonna enjoy every second of it, even if I complain. And then you're going back to New York and we're going to be fine, okay?”

“I just want to -”

“I'm glad you're here,” his dad tells him. “And I know you want to be here. But you're not putting your life on hold for me. I won't allow that.”

“You'd do it for me,” Kurt protests.

“Remember that time when you wanted that solo in glee club?”

“Which time?”

His dad laughs. “You wanted to sing that girl song and they didn't want to let you try out. I went to Figgins and threw a fit in his office. Schuester looked like he was gonna pee himself.”

Kurt smiles. “I remember.”

“You remember too how after everything you and I went through so you had a fair chance like everyone else, you gave up your solo to protect me from a few weird phone calls?”

“Dad, that wasn't -”

“Never think,” his dad says, squeezes his hand, looking right into his eyes, “that I don't know that you care about me. I know that you hold yourself to impossible standards, Kurt. But the best thing you can ever do to make me happy is to live your life exactly the way you want it to.”

Kurt nods and doesn't cry and holds his dad's hand until Carole returns with the doctor.

He's still not sure he's doing everything he can for his family. But at least he had a real conversation with his father.

It's a start.

**

It's late by the time they get home and Kurt gets a chance to sit down – his dad is staying in the hospital for observation and a few more tests for one more night, so suddenly he has the entire night off instead of having to run around taking care of things.

He sits down for a late dinner with Carole, just sandwiches and a quickly thrown-together salad, and they're both too exhausted to talk much. Kurt feels all talked out anyway – he's spent the entire day with his dad and while they'd steered clear of anything too serious after their brief talk that morning, he knows it's still the most they've talked in weeks. Even if the topics had been light and inconsequential. He knows it doesn't matter, not right now. What matters is spending time together. What matters is being a family and taking care of each other the way they've always done, and he hopes his dad understood what he tried to tell him.

He hopes his dad knows that Kurt loves him. Because even if he's not always the best at showing it, he does. He loves his family, and he'd do anything for them. He includes Carole in that, the same way he'd always included Finn. The same way he still includes his mom.

“What do you think,” Carole says, as they're cleaning up after dinner, with her washing the dishes and him drying, “should we watch a movie your father would never agree to or just go to bed early?”

“I am kind of exhausted,” he says, hesitates, thinks about it. “But I don't know if we can pass up the opportunity to watch _The Notebook_ together. Without dad silently judging us from behind the sports section of yesterday's paper.”

She smiles at him gratefully, nods. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

They settle in the living room with some tea, both of them very pointedly not looking at the empty armchair in the corner as they make themselves comfortable at opposite ends of the couch. It's not as if the chair will stay permanently empty. His dad is not gone. He's just temporarily elsewhere. He'll be back soon enough to roll his eyes at them for sighing over Ryan Gosling.

“I think I haven't seen this movie since you moved out,” Carole admits.

Kurt grins at her. “I haven't either. I tried watching it with Rachel once but she wouldn't stop talking through it, so we went back to her DVD collection for movie night.”

“It's nice having someone in the house again who appreciates a good movie.” She leans back in her seat, smiles warmly.

He picks up the remote, nods. “I've missed our movie nights. Even with dad's running commentary concerning the lack of guns and car chases in our selections.”

They both fall silent at the reminder of his father's temporary absence, and Kurt starts the movie to save both of them from getting caught up in their worry and exhaustion again.

**

It's barely after ten by the time the end credits roll and Kurt finds he's not tired anymore; exhausted on a deep, emotional level, but not sleepy. He feels – restless.

Carole yawns on the other end of the couch, stretches her arms above her head. “I think I'm going to bed,” she says. “We have to be at the hospital tomorrow morning and it's been kind of … a day.”

“Yeah.” Kurt shakes his head, forces a smile. “Quite a day.”

“You staying up a while?”

He shrugs. “Guess I've missed my window of sleepiness. I think I'm going to go for a quick walk down to the pond, maybe that'll help.”

She hesitates. “I can go with you, if you want some company.”

He pushes himself up off the couch, shakes his head resolutely and smiles at her again, more real this time. “You're tired. And I just need a minute to clear my head anyway. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she says, gets up after him, and he doesn't resist when she pulls him down into a tight hug. “He's gonna be fine, Kurt. You know that, right?”

He hugs her back, and the support is just what he needs right now. “I know. He's going to be back here in no time complaining about the bland food and the forced exercise.”

She laughs, pulling back. “Exactly. Good night, Kurt.”

He waits until he hears her close the door to the upstairs bathroom before he pulls his shoes on, grabs his keys off the end table by the door, and selects a light summer jacket since the nights are getting colder this time of year.

A walk will help. Just some fresh air, a little exercise before bed to tire him out. He feels too wired to sleep, to even think of lying down and doing nothing. His brain won't shut up like this, so he needs to exhaust his body to make it be quiet for a few hours.

He slips his phone in his jacket pocket, softly pulls the front door shut behind himself. The night air greets him cool and clear, so much cleaner than in New York, so much quieter.

Sometimes, when he comes back to Ohio, he appreciates the quiet, the darkness, the clean air. Sometimes, it just feels like a void, like loneliness, like the black nothing that used to swallow up his voice for too many years. Tonight, it feels like not much of anything at all, except for the fact that it cools his face, makes his lungs expand with the overabundance of clean oxygen.

He stands on the front porch for just a moment, arms wrapped securely around his own chest, bites his lip lost in thought. Then he jolts himself out of his reverie, and starts walking, down the garden path and out onto the street.

He walks past the shop which is huge and dark in the night, past the pond where no one's walking at this hour, past the playground that sits empty and abandoned.

It's a ghost town at just half past ten; everyone at home behind closed doors, watching TV, arguing, reading, going to bed. And he knows that several hours from here New York is still lit up and busy, loud, full of people and life and opportunity, full of distraction and full of chances. He knows the loneliness lives there too, though. It doesn't need large, empty spaces to spread. It would only be worse if he were there instead of here.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and when he pulls it out it's past eleven and he's feeling even more awake from his brisk walk as he unlocks the screen. It's a text from Blaine.

_Hey, just wanted to make sure everything went okay today. How are you?_

The concern behind the words almost chokes him with gratitude; it means so much to be thought of, to have someone who cares to ask, someone who checks in to make sure he's handling things all right.

_It went okay_ , he texts back. _Thank you for checking in!_

_No problem_ , Blaine replies immediately. _I was just thinking about you._

Kurt feels his breath hitch in his throat, stops walking and sits down on the low garden wall of the yard he's passing. _Only good things I hope_ , he writes back.

Blaine's answer comes quickly. _The best things. Are we still on for coffee tomorrow? Only if you have time, of course! I know you have a lot on your plate!_

Kurt smiles to himself. _You're not getting out of coffee with me! I've been looking forward to it since yesterday!_

_Good_ , Blaine answers. _Because I miss you!_

He just sits for a minute smiling helplessly – Blaine is ridiculous, but he's enjoying this. A little too much, maybe.

_I wish it were tomorrow already_ , he texts him. _But right now I should probably get home so I'll actually be awake to meet you._

_You're still out?_ Blaine writes. _That's a long day!_

_I was just taking a walk_ , Kurt assures him, looks up for a minute to look around. _I seem to have gotten a little carried away though. I should probably turn around._

_Where are you?_

_Almost all the way to the Lima Bean._

_I'm just about to leave my friend's house_ , Blaine writes. _I'm gonna drive home. I could pick you up and drop you off at your house._

Kurt sighs. It's such a tempting offer. And he is beginning to feel tired and it is a long walk back from here... _Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you._

_Kurt_ , Blaine writes back. _Getting to see you is hardly what I'd call an inconvenience. I'll be in the Lima Bean parking lot in ten minutes._

_Thank you!_ Kurt texts back, and pockets his phone to start walking. Not only will he not have to make his lonely way home through dark, abandoned streets, he'll get to see Blaine more than half a day earlier than they'd planned. This is a wonderful turn of events.

He's been waiting in the parking lot for maybe a minute when a car pulls up next to him, the driver's side window rolling down to reveal Blaine's smiling, handsome face. Kurt can't help it, doesn't even try to hide it, he smiles back, feels like the rest of the tension from the day just seeps out of him.

“Hi,” Blaine greets him.

Kurt walks around the car, pulls open the passenger side door to slide onto the seat. “Hi,” he greets back. “Thanks for doing this.”

“It's really no trouble at all,” Blaine assures him, and his eyes are so warm and gentle as they meet Kurt's across the short distance between their seats.

For a minute, they simply stare at each other and Kurt thinks he could so easily get lost in Blaine's face – he's beautiful. The most beautiful thing he's seen all day, and he's looking back at him as if he's happy to see him too, and in the midst of all this chaos, the steadiness of his presence feels soothing and necessary, smoothing over the frayed edges of his emotions.

Finally he manages to clear his throat, lower his eyes, and he can feel himself blush as he opens his mouth to find something to say.

“You were hanging out with a friend?”

Blaine nods. “My friend Nick lives just down the road, we were hanging out with a few of the Warblers.”

“How convenient for me,” Kurt says in a tone he hopes is flirty, blinks up at Blaine through his lashes.

Blaine laughs, shakes his head, looks a little flustered. “For me too,” he says in a hoarse voice, reaches across the space between them to take Kurt's hand in his. “I'm really glad it worked out this way.”

Kurt squeezes his fingers, and it's been one hell of a day and he's exhausted and it's late. But looking at Blaine, he feels almost too happy to breathe. “I''m really glad too.”

His hand feels too cold once Blaine pulls back to start driving, and he leans back in his seat, stares out into the darkness of small-town Ohio.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks.

He sighs out, turns his head against the backrest so he can watch Blaine's lovely face in the soft light from the passing streetlamps. “I'm fine. Just – tired.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine says. “I know it must have been a long few days for you.”

“It's all going to be all right,” Kurt says, repeating the mantra he's been holding onto for the past hours. “These things happen.”

“If there's anything I can do,” Blaine says, lifts his shoulders, smiles over at him briefly. “You'll tell me, right?”

Kurt raises an amused eyebrow at him. “You are currently driving me home.”

“That's really not a problem, I was just leaving anyway -”

“Well, it still qualifies as helping!”

“Even if I'm doing it out of selfish reasons?”

Kurt laughs. “Yes, even then. Maybe even more so, because it's flattering.”

Blaine rewards him with an embarrassed little laugh of his own and Kurt has to make himself stop watching him for the rest of the drive because he doesn't want to be creepy. But Blaine is just so very nice to look at.

The distance that would have taken Kurt more than half an hour to walk takes barely any time at all by car, and all too soon they're pulling up in front of Kurt's house, all the lights off except for the porch light and the single lamp in the hall, the soft light spilling out onto the driveway as Blaine cuts the engine.

“I'll walk you in,” Blaine says.

Kurt rolls his eyes at him but can't help the way his heart beats faster. “You're ridiculous.”

“Or maybe I'm just not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”

He doesn't know how to answer that, is afraid his voice won't work properly – Blaine makes him feel like he barely knows up from down. It's distracting. In the very best way possible.

By the time he's climbed out of his seat and is closing the car door behind himself, Blaine is already by his side, slides a warm hand down Kurt's arm in a way that makes him shiver all over, and takes his hand.

Kurt links their fingers without questioning it, his skin tingling where their palms press together as if charged with an electric current. He feels hungry for contact, drawn to Blaine as by gravity, and he cannot find a single reason in his heart or his head to resist this pull. He feels better with Blaine's hand in his, Blaine's warm body so close to his own as they walk their way up to the front door.

“Thanks for taking me home,” Kurt whispers as they turn to face each other just outside the light of the porch lamp.

“It was my pleasure,” Blaine assures him, and instead of letting go takes his other hand as well.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” Kurt asks. It comes out breathier than he's intended. He feels sixteen. Except for the fact that he never had this when was a teenager.

“I can't wait,” Blaine says, takes a careful half-step closer. “I'm looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Kurt manages, mesmerized by the way Blaine's eyes look so sparkling even in the dim light surrounding them.

“Kurt.” Blaine laces their fingers tighter together, sways toward him the tiniest bit. “Can I kiss you?”

Kurt lets out a shuddering breath, feels like his chest isn't big enough to contain all the happiness and affection he's feeling. “You never have to ask me that,” he promises.

“Just making sure,” Blaine says, and Kurt leans in, cuts him off with a firm press of their lips against each other.

The kiss is slow and soft and nothing like the heated making out of the night before. Blaine lifts one hand to his face, cups Kurt's cheek and tilts his own head for a better angle, sighs softly into the kiss and Kurt can feel himself melt against him as Blaine's other arm wraps securely around his back.

He's kissed other boys before but he's never been kissed like this; there's a tenderness in Blaine's touch that makes his heart shiver and expand in his chest.

It's like Blaine _knows_ what he needs, like he can just tell. All day, Kurt has had to hold on so tight, be in charge of everything. And now Blaine takes him in his arms and holds him up and makes him feel so warm and safe he feels like crying. He feels like if he wanted to let go, he could. Blaine is so _gentle_ with him, touching him like it matters, and Kurt clings to him with weak arms and for the first time all day doesn't worry about a thing, knowing that right in this moment, Blaine will catch him if he falls.

When they finally break apart he feels dizzy, keeps his eyes closed for a second, revels in the feeling of Blaine's closeness, Blaine's breath against his cheek, Blaine's taste in his mouth. He opens his eyes to see Blaine's lips still wet from their kiss, Blaine's impossibly long, dark lashes fluttering open a second after Kurt opens his eyes.

He knows it's a short reprieve from the chaos that is his life, but that just makes him all the more grateful for it, all the more grateful for Blaine.

“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt smiles, closes his eyes again, tilts their foreheads together.

On an impulse, he tightens his arms around Blaine, buries his face against the lovely curve of his neck and breathes in deeply. Blaine hugs him back just as tightly, laughs softly into his shoulder.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Kurt tells him.

Blaine pulls back, looks into his eyes, and shakes his head a little with a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Text me? About tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Kurt says.

With another brief, gentle kiss to his lips Blaine finally takes a step back, smiles at him one more time, and walks away to his car.

Kurt lets himself into the dark and quiet house and thinks that maybe he'll sleep well tonight after all.


	7. Chapter 7

On Sunday, his dad comes home.

He almost hadn't believed, for a moment, that it would actually happen. For a moment, during those endless minutes they had waited in the hospital just two days earlier, he'd thought he'd never get another chance of speaking with him, watching TV with him, cooking dinner for him, telling him about his life.

His dad is weak and he looks it – the journey from the hospital back to their house tires him out so much he takes a nap in his chair in the living room as soon as they're back. It's hard _not_ to see this as a setback when that's so obviously what it is. He'd been getting stronger, and now he sleeps in the middle of the day. But at least he's home and the doctors had sounded very hopeful, and Kurt knows they can't afford to move anywhere but forward, he has to be optimistic about all of this and believe that it will get better. 

He takes his dad's bag upstairs, unpacks it for him while Carole stays downstairs.

It's lunch time and he's made plans with Blaine for the afternoon – he does feel a little bad for skipping out again so soon after his dad has come home but it's just for coffee. He'll be back in no time. He just really wants to see Blaine. He needs to see him. Just for an hour. He needs to see him and hear his voice and touch his hand and be kissed by him and held by him and cared for in this way that makes him feel warm all the way down to his toes. He just wants Blaine. A lot.

But he also wants to stay in; the idea of leaving his dad right now when he only just got him back is so scary and feels wrong and he's torn, doesn't know what to do, wishes he could do everything at once. Or at least, he thinks, he'd like to know what the _right_ thing to do is – his dad doesn't want him to put his life on hold, but caring for his family _is_ a part of his life. One of the most important ones. It always has been.

He takes his time putting things away, not to stall, just because this matters too. It matters that someone does this for his father, it matters that someone takes care of his possessions and his living space when he's in no state to do it for himself. It matters that someone goes over some of the paperwork for the garage while he can't do it, and Kurt reminds himself to get started on that tonight after dinner. And right now his dad is asleep anyway, it's not as if Kurt could be spending time with him this very minute if he wanted to.

By the time he makes it back downstairs he's almost made up his mind to cancel on Blaine – he wants him so desperately, too desperately, but this is his family right here and he can't be selfish; he can't skip out on them on a day like this. It feels big, somehow, and maybe he's over-thinking everything, but he thinks he needs to be here. And maybe staying in is actually the selfish thing to do, he doesn't know, he just isn't sure anymore, but he's tired and he just wants things to be easy, for once. They just never are and no amount of wishing ever changes that.

The thought of not getting to see Blaine today sits heavily in his chest, and he knows that canceling their date now, even if it was just coffee, is going to appear rude no matter how he words it. Blaine has been so supportive these past few days. More than supportive. He's been caring and kind and understanding; he's been the best friend and the most attentive boyfriend that Kurt could ever wish for.

Boyfriend. The word makes him pause, standing in the kitchen doorway for a second, feeling so much he's afraid he's going to burst.

Blaine _is_ his boyfriend, isn't he? Blaine cares about him, quite obviously and Kurt – Kurt can't find the words to describe his feelings for Blaine. He's not sure that there are any words for this. Blaine is – he's simply wonderful. Whatever he's done right in his life to have this now, he feels endlessly grateful.

It feels important, serious, relevant in a way that nothing else has before. His one months-long relationship during freshman year hadn't felt like this, even when things were good. He's been with Blaine for all of a few days and it already feels like … more. He can't explain it, can't put it into words, but he feels it.

Maybe it should be scary. Maybe he should take a step back and look at this with a clear head, analyze it, figure out what it means. But … he needs this. Maybe too much. Right now, he doesn't care.

“You look worried,” Carole says, walking past him into the kitchen, opening the fridge to get started on putting lunch together.

Kurt clears his throat, pulls himself forcefully out of his thoughts. “No, I'm fine,” he says. “Just tired.”

She nods, and he knows she can relate to that. “When are you going out with Blaine?”

He shakes his head. “I don't know yet if we're actually going or not.”

She looks confused. “Everything okay with you two?”

“Oh! Yes. We're fine.” He walks all the way into the kitchen, runs a fingertip over the smooth wooden surface of the kitchen counter, staring down at his hand. “I just – I feel like maybe I should be here today instead.”

“To do what?” Carole wants to know.

He shrugs. “I should be with dad today. Now that he's home.”

“He won't mind,” Carole assures him. “He worries about you. You deserve to have a nice time with your boyfriend for a few hours.”

“But -” he looks up at her. “I just – I don't know. I just don't know, Carole.” He sighs.

She looks at him thoughtfully, then takes a determined step closer and pulls him into a quick but tight hug. “I get it,” she says, pulling back to meet his eyes with her hands still on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Believe me, I do.”

“Thank you. I know.”

“I'm sure Blaine wouldn't mind having coffee with you here instead. And your dad might like to meet him.”

Kurt blushes. “We've been dating for five minutes, I don't know if it's time for him yet to meet dad -”

“He met me,” she reminds him. “And he didn't run away screaming.”

“Well, you're amazing,” Kurt tells her, grinning.

“I am,” she agrees, grinning back, then turns serious again. “Really, Kurt. If you guys wanted to stay here instead, that would be more than okay. Your dad would be happy for you. And so am I. You know that.”

He nods gratefully, bites his lip as he leans back against the counter, thinking. It does seem like a good compromise. It also seems like kind of a big step. And his dad needs rest.

“On the other hand,” she says, “If you do want to be able to help your dad, you need to take care of yourself too. You know? Recharge the batteries every now and then so you have the energy for -” she shrugs, waves a hand. “All of this. It's a lot.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“So go out. You're not getting on a flight to Europe. You'll be a few minutes away by car. It's okay, Kurt.”

He nods at her, smiles. “What about you, though? When do you get out to take your break?”

She laughs, eyes warm as she shakes her head at him. “I'll call my friend Rosa tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, bumping their shoulders together as he turns toward the counter. “Need help with lunch?”

**

He doesn't cancel on Blaine. It's not that he's a hundred percent sure he wants to go out, but every time he picks up the phone to tell him they can't do today, he just can't stand the thought of not seeing him. 

So at half past three on the dot, the doorbell rings, and he tries to dodge Carole's knowing smirk as he hurries from the living room where his dad is reading the sports section while she's just starting a new book Kurt had recommended to her a few days before.

He opens the door to Blaine's smiling face and he can't control the way his own face just explodes into an answering smile, or the way his heart jumps in his chest happily, or the way his knees go weak as his arms reach for him before he's all the way in the house.

With a happy little sound he's fallen into his arms and has his face stuffed into the crook of his neck, breathing him in hungrily as he rubs his nose against the faint stubble on the underside of his jaw.

“Hello,” Blaine says, wrapping him in a tight hug, voice a mix between breathy and amused. “It's good to see you too.”

Kurt laughs, it feels so _good_ to laugh. “I've missed you.”

“You saw me last night.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“I know.” Blaine squeezes him tighter. “I've missed you too.”

And Kurt can't worry about going too fast, falling too quickly, rushing things between them. They've known each other for two weeks, have been on two dates if they count the one that started at the hospital and ended horizontally on the couch, and he _needs_ him. There is nothing he can do about it. He doesn't trust easily, but when Blaine holds him, he has never felt safer.

“How are you?” Blaine asks, quietly, his breath brushing across Kurt's cheek as Kurt does his best to try and melt into him so he'll never never have to let go.

“I'm fine,” he promises and pulls back to kiss him; and it's true, he does feel fine. Better than fine. He feels happy. And that's all because of Blaine.

Blaine kisses back immediately, one hand cupping the back of Kurt's neck in that way he seems to like. Kurt loves that he's starting to memorize all these little details. And he really likes Blaine's hands on him. A lot.

“Is that the boyfriend?” A voice comes from the living room, and Kurt breaks the kiss with a short laugh, knocks his forehead off Blaine's.

Blaine keeps his eyes closed, grins a little embarrassed grin.

“My dad,” Kurt explains, and Blaine nods in understanding.

“I figured.”

Kurt lifts his head, calls back down the hall, “Yes, it is, and he has a name too!”

“Well, get him in here,” Burt calls back and Kurt can hear Carole chuckling in the background.

Family. At least you can always count on them to be weird, no matter the circumstances.

He raises his eyebrows at Blaine, indicating the direction to the living room with his head. “You don't have to, but -”

“Lead the way.” Blaine slides a hand down Kurt's arm to find his hand and link their fingers together, squeezing lightly. “I guess it's only polite if I introduce myself.”

Kurt laughs and gives him another quick kiss on his smiling mouth, because Blaine is the cutest thing ever and he's _his_ boyfriend. “Okay. Thank you.”

He leads him down the hall, their hands holding onto each other – they know who Blaine is to him and there's no sense in hiding any of it. Still, he is very much aware of the fact that this is a first. He has never introduced a boyfriend to his family – because there has never been anyone who actually made it that far. Not even Adam. No one has been important enough to meet his dad yet.

Burt sits in his arm chair, blanket over his legs and newspaper on his knees as they enter the living room. He meets them with a level glance, and Kurt knows he's doing his best to look intimidating even if he can't quite hide the pleased grin on his face at the sight of the two of them holding hands.

“Dad,” Kurt says, putting his other hand on Blaine's shoulder. “This is Blaine.”

Burt nods, picking up the newspaper and putting it away onto the small end table next to his chair. “Yeah. I figured.” He clears his throat, looks both of them up and down. “Nice to meet you, Blaine. And sorry for not getting up, I -”

“That's okay, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine says, letting go of Kurt's hand to cross the room, extending a hand for Kurt's dad to shake. “It's nice to meet you too!”

Kurt watches as the two shake hands firmly and can't help but feel relieved; they seem relaxed around each other.

“Kurt's been talking about you a lot,” Burt says, and Kurt feels himself blush, lowers his eyes as he bites his lip, but doesn't protest. Because, well. It's true.

Blaine's smile is shy but pleased. “Oh. Um. I -”

“We're just going out for coffee, okay?” Kurt tells his dad. “I'll be back in an hour and then we can -”

“You kids go and have fun,” Burt insists, waving them on with one hand. “I have Carole to fuss over me, you can take the evening shift,” he tells Kurt, voice amused but firm.

“Well -” Kurt hesitates. “I made you some of that tea you like. It's in the kitchen. And for dinner I thought -”

“Go,” Burt insists. “Have your coffee. Get out of the house. We'll be fine.”

Kurt lets out a short laugh, feeling a little nervous, still a little unsure of what to do. But then he looks over at Blaine, at that patient look on his face as he waits for Kurt, and he knows that if he suggested staying in, Blaine would be fine with it. If he suggested going out some other day, Blaine wouldn't object. If they go out and in ten minutes Kurt decides that he has to be back here, Blaine will be fine with that too.

“Okay,” he says, and suddenly he does feel better, just making the decision feels like a weight lifted off of his chest. Blaine smiles a small, tentative smile and Kurt smiles back at him, walks over to his dad to press a quick kiss to his bald head. “I won't be long.”

“It's okay if you are, though,” Burt promises, giving him one of those pointed looks Kurt knows so well, as if he's trying to stare him down.

He laughs, and takes Blaine's hand in his own as he leads him from the living room and out towards the hall to put his shoes on.

**

Blaine drives them to the Lima Bean, and once again Kurt is overwhelmed with how easy it is to just talk to him, about everything and nothing. Blaine tells him about the time his brother visited him at school and handed out signed headshots to the entire faculty and the Warblers council, and Kurt laughs, leans back in his seat, head rolled to the side against the backrest so he can look at his lovely profile, take him in and just fill up on this all-consuming feeling of lightness Blaine evokes in him. He feels weightless and yet so firmly grounded, so in the moment. There is nowhere he'd rather be than right here with Blaine and it doesn't matter whether 'here' is in a car or the Lima Bean or his dad's house or the moon. As long as he has Blaine, he'll be okay. He can feel it.

Blaine finishes his story and bites his lip as the corner of his mouth flutters in a self-conscious little grin. “You're staring,” he says.

Kurt shrugs, doesn't look away, can't even feel embarrassed. “You're beautiful,” he says simply.

“Hah. Um.” Blaine clears his throat, chuckles. “- Thanks.”

Kurt lifts his shoulders again, grins at him. “It's true.”

“Well.” Blaine pulls into the Lima Bean parking lot, cuts off the engine, blinks over at Kurt from under his dark and thick lashes. “I could say the same about you!”

Kurt just smiles at him almost lazily, reaches across at him to take his hand, which Blaine willingly offers. “Have I thanked you yet for being here for me through all of this?”

Blaine threads their fingers together, smiles back. “You have. Several times. And I have assured you several times that you don't have to, because I really like being there for you. If anything I do will make you feel just a little better, then -” He shrugs, lifts their joined hands to kiss the backs of Kurt's fingers. “I like doing it. Plus, I get to spend time with you. Which is kind of all I want to do right now.”

He doesn't know what to say to that, he has no experience with this, with being looked at like he's precious. But his heart beats steady and calm in his chest, completely sure of this in all its wonderful magnitude as he leans over across the gear shift to kiss Blaine, and Blaine meets him halfway, doesn't hesitate for a second.

The kiss is short and almost unbearably sweet; Kurt thinks he'd like to find a better way of thanking Blaine but for now this is the best way he has of expressing just what all of this means to him. And it's when their lips finally meet that the rising emotions make him tremble with gratitude and affection.

For weeks he's felt as if he was suffocating under the weight of his own life, his responsibilities, his tender heart aching with the knowledge of his dad's illness, the pain of loving someone so much who could be gone any moment.

Now his heart aches in a whole new way, it's a pleasurable ache that swells into unbearable happiness whenever Blaine is near, all-consuming, almost violent joy that takes over every cell of his body when Blaine touches him.

And by some stroke of luck, Blaine likes him too, holds his hand, kisses him, takes care of him.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, and because he feels he has to say something after that, “Can I buy you a Thank You cookie?”

Blaine's lifts the hand that isn't holding Kurt's, cups Kurt's cheek so gently in his palm, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin under his eye. “I'm not gonna say no to that,” Blaine says, quietly, and kisses him again, slowly, softly, carefully.

Kurt feels Blaine's eyelashes against his cheek and opens his mouth for him, unafraid and eager; he's completely helpless against this feeling and he knows it. But this is the kind of weakness that he draws strength from. It means a lot to him, that he gets to have this.

**

Inside the Lima Bean, they sit across the table from each other, hands wrapped around their coffee mugs, and Blaine won't stop grinning at him, that wide, happy grin that makes Kurt feel like he can accomplish anything.

He nudges Blaine's leg with his foot under the table, grins back. “You look cheerful.”

Blaine shrugs, takes a slow sip of his coffee, meets his eyes firmly and steadily as his grin grows even wider. “I'm just ridiculously happy.”

Kurt feels the laugh shuddering out of him, heart jumping in his chest as he ducks his head, trying to hide his blush.

“I mean,” Blaine leans forward, reaching out a hand, his fingers resting against Kurt's on the table top. “I'm sorry. I know this is a tough time for you and I don't mean to make light of what you're going through, I just -”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts him off, lifting his head so Blaine can see his face, not even trying to hide what he's feeling. “I know. And yes, things are – they are difficult right now, and a lot of it is scary and not good, but this -” he takes his hand back to gesture between them, “This is good. It's really good.”

Blaine's eyes are so kind. “Really?”

“I promise,” Kurt says. “You're – Blaine, right now, I'm happy.”

“I hope so,” Blaine says softly. “I want you to be.”

**

They talk for what feels like hours, moving from topic to topic as easily as if they'd known each other for years instead of just two weeks.

Blaine tells him about the Warblers' impromptu performances all over school and how they're usually well-timed to get one of the council members out of an especially hated class.

“Wait,” Kurt interrupts, wide-eyed, amused. “When you guys sing, people don't have to go to class?”

Blaine shakes his head. “It's kind of awesome. As long as we don't overdo it, teachers will excuse absences due to spontaneous performances. Some of the time, they're there listening themselves.”

Kurt shakes his head at him. “That sounds completely amazing. Not only did nobody care about glee club at McKinley, but to make matters worse a lot of the time we even had things thrown at us. Slushies, mostly. A shoe, that one time. And no one did anything about that, not really.”

Blaine raises both eyebrows at him. “Someone threw a shoe at you? Please tell me that was enough to get a teacher to step in to interfere!”

Kurt shrugs, grins at him. “It was a teacher who threw it in the first place!”

“Oh my god!” Blaine laughs. “What kind of a school did you even go to? I mean. I get it. The school I went to before Dalton – yeah.”

Kurt nods. “But at least we did perform outside the school a lot. Not just to get away from the hostile environments, it wasn't always better somewhere else. But we didn't just sing for audiences.” He rolls his eyes. “The New Directions _loved_ their karaoke nights. Those were always interesting. The few times they actually managed to get organized enough to go through with them, at least.”

“The Warblers have those too,” Blaine says, pauses, tilts his head at him. “Any chance I can make you accompany me to the next one?”

Kurt squints his eyes at him, taps a finger against his chin. “Will I have to wear a blazer?”

“We don't _always_ wear our uniforms, you know?” Blaine shakes his head at him.

Kurt sweeps his gaze across Blaine's snug-fitting polo shirt, nods appreciatively. “I can see that.”

“So you can wear whatever you want. But you _will_ have to sing.”

“An opportunity to dress up and sing in front of people?” Kurt says. “Count me in!”

“I'll try to get my friend Jeff to put together a karaoke night soon,” Blaine says. “He has this great basement that his parents let us use – you'll like it. It has a stage.”

“My friend Rachel had a stage in her basement,” Kurt says. “You know, Hiram and LeRoy from the dance studio. She's their daughter.”

“Well, they seem like the kind of people who'd have a stage in the basement.”

“I know, right?”

“So, that's where you'd hang out on the weekends?” he wants to know.

Kurt shrugs. “Sometimes. Rachel and I – we only started becoming really close during senior year when it turned out we were both headed for New York. I spent a lot of time at my dad's garage before. He let me work there to make some extra money. You know. For New York.”

“You always knew it was going to be New York for you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I always knew I wanted to do musical theater. New York is kind of where it all happens, you know? Also, it's not here, so -”

Blaine chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. That's pretty much why I want to go there too.”

“And now if you do, you'll already know someone there,” Kurt says, and Blaine smiles, hooks their ankles together under the table.

“If I actually do get into NYADA,” Blaine says.

“We'll start working on your audition next week. I'll help you. You can do it!”

Blaine flutters his lashes at him, mouth twitching. “Yeah but -” he lowers his head a bit, blinks up at him. “Maybe you won't want to hang out with me once I'm there. You'll be in your last year and I'll just be this embarrassing freshman following you around campus like a lost puppy -”

His heart _hurts_ with joy just picturing it; walking across campus with Blaine's hand in his, sending each other off to class with a kiss and a smile, getting to introduce him as 'this is Blaine, my boyfriend.' He _wants_ it.

Silence stretches for a few moments and Kurt thinks about, only for the briefest of moments, going back to New York, for the beginning of next semester, and Blaine staying here, thinks about Blaine following him a few months later and wonders what they'll be to each other then, whether or not this will last. But he quickly pushes the thought down, he has enough to worry about as it is. And he and Blaine have been dating since Wednesday. It seems too early to consider all of this.

“Maybe you'll be the one who won't want to be seen with me,” he suggests. “You know, you're finally at college, free to do whatever you want, and then there's this old guy constantly showing up everywhere totally cramping your style -”

Blaine laughs, eyes sparkling as he looks at Kurt. “I'm not worried about that,” he says. “Trust me.”

And the thing is, Kurt does.


	8. Chapter 8

On Monday Blaine shows up to dance class wearing a bow tie with his Dalton gym polo shirt. Kurt can't help the wide grin that spreads across his face as he sees Blaine approach him across the room, can't help the swooping sensation in his stomach. Blaine is the cutest thing he has ever seen in his life and he doesn't remember high school boys being this cute three years ago. But maybe he'd just never met the right ones.

“Hi,” Blaine says, hands reaching out to close around Kurt's upper arms, eyes wide and happy as he quickly sweeps his gaze around the still empty room.

Class isn't starting for another fifteen minutes and he's the first one here.

“Hi,” Kurt says back, feels his face heat up as he sways closer to him, soaking up the delicious warmth from Blaine's body so close to his own.

“I'm a little early,” Blaine says.

“You look ridiculously cute today,” Kurt tells him before he can stop himself.

Blaine chuckles, then leans in the rest of the way, rocking up on his feet, and Kurt barely manages to squeeze his eyes closed before Blaine's lips press firmly against his. The kiss is hard and sure and so hot and wet from the start, Kurt sighs into it a little bit, lets his muscles just go, leans weakly into this boy who pulls him closer, arms securely around Kurt's back.

“I wanted to look nice for you,” Blaine whispers when the kiss breaks, and Kurt quickly kisses him again, flicks his tongue against Blaine's full bottom lip.

“You always look nice,” he breathes.

“I also wanted to ask you something,” Blaine adds, rubbing his nose against Kurt's as his hands cup the backs of his shoulders firmly.

Kurt hugs him back, grateful for these few precious moments alone with his boyfriend, greedily breathes in the already familiar scent of him. “What is it?”

Blaine presses their chests together, hums a little. “Remember how I told you about the Warbler karaoke parties?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There is one this Friday,” Blaine tells him. “All night, at Dalton, the theme is 'Silly Love Songs,' and I was wondering … Would you accompany me?”

Kurt laughs softly, happiness bubbling up inside – An invitation to a high school party? It's such a sweet, innocent, fun idea, and he's so glad Blaine wants him there. “You're having an actual party at school?”

Blaine nods. “Sometimes we get the senior commons for our gatherings. The Warblers council has a lot of pull with the faculty. We can use the room all night, no alcohol allowed, of course. But we can have a sleepover. We just need to have everything cleaned up by Saturday afternoon.”

“A sleepover at Dalton Academy,” Kurt says, amused. “Are you guys for real? That sounds like the perfect start to a teen movie...”

“We've done it several times,” Blaine assures him. “It's always a lot of fun. I mean, you could leave when you're tired, you don't have to stay over just because you show up. I haven't always slept over either. Just a few times. But the party itself is still going to be completely amazing.”

“I'd love to go,” Kurt says. “It does sound like fun.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I mean, I'll get to see the inside of the Academy, I'll get to sing with actual Warblers, and I'll get to spend time with my boyfriend! Sounds good to me!”

“You're amazing,” Blaine tells him, and kisses him again.

Kurt lets himself be kissed, safe and warm in Blaine's arms, heart pounding happily in his chest.

So the past few weeks haven't been easy. But right now, he thinks, his life is so amazing he can barely stand it.

Blaine is amazing.

“Is anyone else bringing boyfriends or girlfriends, though?” he asks, a little worried. “I mean, I wouldn't want to intrude...”

“Most of the guys are bringing their girlfriends,” Blaine assures him. “Or boyfriends. A few of them are dating each other. You won't be the only non-Warbler, though. Don't worry.”

“I'll be the oldest one there, though, won't I?” Kurt can't help but ask … He's only three years older than Blaine, but still very decidedly not a high school student anymore.

“Don't worry about that,” Blaine tells him. “Thad's boyfriend is, like, twenty. And Wes may be my age, but he acts fifty, so trust me, no one is going to care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Blaine says, and Kurt decides to believe him.

“In that case, I'm really looking forward to it.”

“You'll have to sing a duet with me, though. It's kind of a rule. Non-Warblers have to sing at least one song with a Warbler of their choice.”

Kurt laughs. “What if I don't choose you?”

Blaine pouts at him, his eyes going so wide and _hurt_ Kurt almost melts on the spot. “I'll cry,” he promises solemnly. “You'd break my heart, Kurt. Do you want to make me cry because my heart is broken?”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him, nudges Blaine's nose with his own. “You're ridiculous. I promise I won't make you cry.”

“You'll sing with me?”

“You couldn't stop me if you tried,” he assures Blaine. “I'll email you song suggestions later tonight.”

“Wonderful! I can't wait!”

“And we probably should meet up and practice later this week.”

“If by practicing you mean more kissing,” Blaine says, pecks his lips again playfully.

“I actually meant singing,” Kurt lets him know. “But if you insist, I guess I could be persuaded to kiss you a little.”

“I'm the luckiest guy in the world,” Blaine sighs and promptly kisses him again.

**

They have coffee on Tuesday and Blaine picks Kurt up after school to drive them both to the Lima Bean. He comes inside first and has a fifteen-minute conversation about football with Kurt's dad, which makes Kurt incredibly nervous and overwhelmingly happy at the same time. He's glad that the two get along. He still doesn't quite know how to behave in one room with both of them, this is all new. So he sits next to Blaine on the couch, very still, further apart than he would if they were alone, but close enough to hold Blaine's hand in the space between their bodies.

Over coffee at the Lima Bean they talk song selections for their duet on Friday; Kurt had emailed Blaine a long list of possible songs and after half an hour of discussing them in detail, they settle on Depeche Mode's _Just Can't Get Enough_ which Kurt had only put on the list because he'd assumed Blaine might like it. He's happy to find that he was right.

They kiss for a long time in the car outside Kurt's house before saying good night. Kurt is fascinated to discover that after every date he finds it a bit more difficult to walk away from Blaine. Being with him is addictive. He's never considered himself a physically affectionate person, but suddenly he can't stop wanting Blaine's hands all over him, feels hungry for every touch and every kiss. In the soft light of the evening Blaine's eyes are golden-brown and soft wisps of hair have escaped from the gel, the faint stubble on his cheeks makes Kurt reach out to trace his fingertips over his cheekbones and the curve of his jaw. He wants to _bite_ him. It's an entirely new and entirely confusing sensation, he has never felt like this about anyone before. But Blaine makes him feel greedy, makes him want to lick his neck or bury his face against the curve of his shoulder.

“What is it?” Blaine asks, noticing the way Kurt is staring at him, breath rasping a little.

Kurt can't voice his thoughts, can't put this desire into words just yet. So instead he presses closer to him, trails a series of kisses up Blaine's jaw, enjoys the way Blaine's stubble prickles against his lips. He kisses higher, tugs at Blaine's earlobe with his teeth, flicks his tongue against the warm skin behind it.

“You smell amazing,” he whispers softly, and Blaine chuckles, slips an adventurous hand under the hem of Kurt's shirt, splays his hand wide against the overheated skin of Kurt's back as Kurt gently bites the curve of Blaine's jaw.

“Are you trying to eat me?” Blaine asks, sounding amused.

Kurt laughs. “I just don't want to stop,” he admits before he can stop himself.

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath, threads his fingers through Kurt's hair to hold him closer before Kurt has a chance to draw back in embarrassment. “I don't want you to stop,” he says, voice low and a little rough.

Kurt breathes, in, out, skin tingling, his whole body buzzing with a new kind of need, desire and want tugging sharp and intense at his nerve endings, pooling low at the base of his spine.

“But we probably should,” he makes himself say. “For now.”

“For now,” Blaine agrees.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

Blaine kisses his way across his face until he captures his lips, tongue slipping into his mouth, his arms holding him close. “Definitely. Yes.”

“So we can start practicing our duet.”

“Of course,” Blaine says, sounding a little smug. “We should practice. Absolutely.”

One more kiss, and then another one, and by the time Kurt manages to open his door and get out of the car his lips feel hot and swollen and chapped from all the kissing. It's the best feeling in the world.

Blaine waits until he's inside before driving away. Kurt likes that he does that. It makes him feel cared for.

**

Wednesday Blaine picks Kurt up from work and brings coffee in two tall paper cups. They decide that singing a duet can wait and instead sit on the steps outside Berrydance and talk for an hour until Kurt has to go to get started on dinner. Blaine drops him off at home which is a good thing since Kurt doesn't have his car that day; Carole had needed it to run some errands.

“Come by to practice the song tomorrow?” Blaine asks as he pulls up into the Hummel's driveway.

“I can be there around five-thirty,” Kurt tells him.

“I'll be there.”

“See you then,” he says, kisses Blaine once and then hurries to get out of the car because he really needs to get started on cooking and he has a tendency to get caught up in the moment whenever he starts kissing Blaine too much.

They all sit down together after dinner that night, move into the living room and play Monopoly until bedtime. Burt wins and Kurt slumps back in his seat as Carole starts folding up his dad's blanket so they can all go upstairs.

“This game was way more fun when I was young enough you'd let me win every time,” he complains.

His dad laughs. “At least now when you lose you don't throw yourself on the carpet anymore and kick your legs and scream about how we're ruining your life.”

“I could do that again if it means you'll let me win,” Kurt suggests.

“Fine, but I'll record it and send the video to Blaine,” his dad replies.

Kurt groans. “I should never have taught you how to take videos with your phone camera.”

“Too late.”

“Yeah, well.” He laughs, gets up to kiss his dad's bald head and give Carole a hug. “I'm going to bed.”

He texts Blaine before falling asleep, exchanging a number of random messages before he closes his eyes. Life doesn't really get any better, he thinks: a nice evening with the family and then curling up on his soft mattress and texting his boyfriend who is breathtakingly adorable even over text. He doesn't know what he did to get so lucky. But he enjoys it.

**

Thursday he drives over straight to Blaine's house after work, pulls up into the driveway of the cozy looking family home with the huge front yard full of flower beds, the gravel footpath leading up to an inviting looking front porch that holds a comfortable looking wooden porch swing and a wrought iron table with several chairs around it. Huge potted plants are lining the white wooden railing and a slightly rusty old bike is leaning against the side of the stairs. It looks like Blaine and his family like spending time outside. The whole space looks lived in, used, well-loved and taken care of. Kurt immediately falls in love with it a little bit.

He opens his car door and starts getting out, and before his feet have even hit the driveway the front door to Blaine's house flies open and there's his boyfriend hurrying across the porch, jumping down the porch steps with nothing but slippers on his sockless feet, out of uniform and instead in a clingy red polo shirt and shorts that end above the knee, giving Kurt a perfect view of muscular, well-rounded calves covered in thick, dark hair that makes Kurt wants to scratch his nails through it. Blaine is grinning, waving at him as he bounces over, and Kurt manages to slam his car door closed behind himself before Blaine launches himself into his arms, his own firmly wrapping around Kurt's back as he presses his face against Kurt's cheek.

“Blaine,” Kurt laughs.

“I've missed you,” Blaine blurts, sounding a little breathless and very enthusiastic.

“You saw me yesterday.”

“Too long ago,” Blaine tells him. “I've been Kurt-less for almost an entire day. I've been pining. _Pining_! And not the fun kind! What have you done to me, Kurt Hummel? I used to be a respectable Dalton boy! And now I sit in pre-calc doodling my boyfriend's name in the margins of my notes and drawing silly little hearts everywhere...”

“You did that?” Kurt asks, doing his best to sound scandalized, stomach doing that swooping motion he is slowly getting used to. “But Blaine, your education!”

“Mmm,” Blaine hums, pulling back far enough that he can lean up and kiss Kurt's nose, nuzzling their foreheads together. “What if I'd rather study _you_ instead?”

Kurt can't help it, he laughs out loud, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulls Blaine closer into the hug. “Ugh, Blaine! That was awful! Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“I can't think around you,” Blaine whines, chuckling a little. “You drive me crazy.”

“That was not my intention,” Kurt tells him. “You have to graduate Dalton so you can go to NYADA! Don't you want to go to New York?”

“I have an older, very responsible boyfriend living there,” Blaine says. “He can just get rich and famous and support me.”

“And what will you be doing?”

Blaine seems to think about it for a moment. “I'll kiss him whenever and wherever he wants. And bake him cookies. And always surprise him.”

“You _are_ crazy.”

“I'm crazy about you,” Blaine says, and when he surges up to kiss him, it's all Kurt can do to cling to him and feel happier than he ever has in his life.

“It's possible that I'm a little bit crazy about you too,” he whispers against Blaine's lips in between kisses.

“Yay,” Blaine says happily, and slips his tongue into Kurt's mouth.

They do make it inside to practice their song eventually. But mostly there's kissing. And cuddling. Which, really, is completely fine with Kurt, if he's being honest.

**

On Friday, Kurt lets Blaine pick him up again to go to the Warblers party – it's simply more practical this way. Blaine knows the shortest way to Dalton, they really don't need to go in separate cars, and, if Kurt is being quite honest with himself, it's also an attempt on his part to trick himself into staying the night with Blaine and his friends.

He's packed carefully, selected a pair of yoga pants and a comfortable yet well-fitting sweater, so he'll be looking casual, not like he's trying too hard, but hopefully still respectably put-together. Blaine had told him to bring a sleeping bag in case they do decide to stay, and he's quite proud of the fact that it had only taken him an hour to find one in the mess of boxes in the attic, in between his dad's old camping equipment. He's washed it twice to get the dusty smell out of it, but at least he's actually prepared now.

Blaine comes in for a minute as he picks him up to say hi to Burt and Carole, and Kurt is delighted by how well they all get along.

The drive to Dalton takes a while from Kurt's house but he hardly notices time passing as he talks with Blaine, telling him about going over to the Berry's house for the first time when he was fifteen, how he'd barely been able to stop staring, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. It had been a lot to take in – not just all the hope their particular family gave him for maybe actually one day having a family like that of his own. He'd also just been pretty overwhelmed with … the combined force of their individual personalities; he still can't help but grin widely as he remembers.

“You could tell that they loved each other like crazy, but they still fought tooth and nail about solos in their pre-dinner performance,” he tells Blaine, shaking his head fondly.

“They had a pre-dinner performance? Like, as a regular thing?”

He nods. “Every day. It seemed a little insane to me, but also kind of ...”

“Amazing?”

“Yeah. In a certifiably insane way. But still. It was … different. I've always loved things that were different.”

“I like that about you,” Blaine says, signaling before turning a corner.

“What?”

Blaine shrugs. “You're just … _you_. I mean, you never agree with me just to please me or say what you think I want to hear.”

“Who does that?”

“Some people. But not you. And you just – you do what you love. I really admire that, Kurt.”

“Well,” he blushes a little, lowers his head, heart hammering in his chest. “What else would I be doing?”

“No, hey.” Blaine reaches across as they stop at a red light, takes his hand, smiles when Kurt tentatively blinks up at him. “I mean it.”

“You don't need to compliment me to get me to like you,” Kurt breathes, feeling a little lightheaded all of a sudden.

“It's the truth, though,” Blaine says nonchalantly. “You are the single most interesting person I have ever met.”

“I've never met anyone like you either,” Kurt rushes to say before he can stop himself. “You're amazing, Blaine.”

Blaine looks very happy as he squeezes Kurt's hand before he turns his attention back on the road so they can keep driving.

They're almost at Dalton anyway. Kurt is still not sure about hanging out with a school full of high school students all night, but he's sure it will be fun as long as Blaine is there with him.

**

The first thing Kurt notices as they pull up into the parking lot: Blaine's school is _beautiful_. And huge. And old. And a little intimidating now that he's sitting here in the car looking up at that huge building that looks like an old mansion, wondering if this was a good idea.

“So,” Blaine says. “Here we are.”

“Yeah,” Kurt breathes, clears his throat. “You go to school in a castle?”

Blaine laughs. “It's pretty, isn't it?”

“It's pretty _huge_ ,” Kurt says. “Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?”

Blaine takes his hand. “Of course it is. And everyone's looking forward to meeting you. Trust me.”

Kurt nods. “I can't believe I thought about going here for a while when I was a junior,” he says, chuckling. “I knew this was a fancy place, but this is -”

Blaine gives his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Want to see the inside?”

He nods his head eagerly. “Yes! Please!”

“Okay. Let's go.” Blaine sounds way too excited. It's cute.

The place looks somehow even bigger on the inside. Kurt knows he's kind of staring dumbly, but he doesn't know how to snap out of it, lets Blaine lead him by the hand while he looks around wide-eyed, jaw dropped open. There are marble floors. There are actual pillars. The doors are heavy dark wood with carved door panels and when he catches a glimpse into what looks like a common room he sees leather arm chairs and dark, solid wood tables, thick rugs on the floor and an actual _fireplace_ in the far wall.

“Blaine?” he asks, voice a little scratchy. “Are we in Hogwarts?”

Blaine throws his head back as he laughs out loud, pulls him into a little side hug. “I wish,” he says. “Wouldn't that be amazing?”

“This place _is_ amazing,” Kurt says earnestly.

“I like it here,” Blaine admits.

“I can see why.” They're walking towards a wide spiral staircase under an actual leaded glass skylight, and he stops at the top of the stairs, tugs at Blaine's hand until he turns around to face him. “I think I'd even be able to live with the uniforms if I'd get to come here every day,” he says.

Blaine looks happy. “But your clothes are so beautiful,” he says. “It would be a shame if you had to wear the same blazer every day.”

Kurt blushes. “You and your compliments,” he says. “I keep telling you. You _really_ don't have to work so hard to win me over anymore.” His pulse is racing with a mix of nervousness and happiness, and Blaine looks so handsome in the soft light of the hallway, he just wants to kiss him. “In fact, you never had to work for it at all.”

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers, eyebrows drawn together in an expression that looks so bashful and so filled with joy at the same time, Kurt has to smile.

“You're exceptionally cute, has anyone ever told you that?”

“You make me so happy,” Blaine says, and before Kurt can fully process the words or say anything back, Blaine is kissing him and he's happily and enthusiastically kissing back.

A chorus of whistles and catcalls rises at the bottom of the stairs and Blaine laughs into the kiss, pulling back with a smacking sound only to press his face against Kurt's.

“My friends,” he says apologetically, a little amused.

Kurt keeps his eyes closed, hides against Blaine as well as he can. “Your friends are rude,” he says, no actual heat behind the words.

“They are a little,” Blaine confirms, hand sliding down Kurt's arm until he finds his hand to link their fingers again before he turns around, careful to keep their bodies pressed together as he looks down at the crowd of boys in the downstairs hallway. “Hi guys,” he calls. Kurt waves shyly.

“So the boyfriend really does exist,” a boy with tousled blond hair calls up at them.

“We were beginning to think you had invented him,” the boy next to him, who is holding the blond guy's hand, adds.

“Maybe your guest would like to be officially introduced,” a third guy suggests, fixing Blaine with a firm glare. “Where are your manners, Warbler Blaine?”

“Calm down, Wes,” Blaine says calmly, turning his head to smile at Kurt. “Shall we?”

Kurt nods, fighting back the rising laughter as he follows Blaine down the stairs, their hands still firmly linked.

“Everyone,” Blaine calls, wildly waving his free hand through the air. “This is Kurt, my boyfriend! Kurt, this is … everyone.”

“My name is Wes,” the strict-looking guy tells him once they've made their way downstairs, stepping forward determinedly and formally offering his hand. “Welcome to Dalton, Blaine's boyfriend Kurt.” He smiles a small, almost secretive smile, winks awkwardly, and Kurt shakes his hand and decides he likes this guy.

He does his best to remember all the names … the hand-holding boys are Nick and Jeff even if he's not quite sure who's who, and he lets his eyes sweep the sea of faces as they enter the common room that's apparently their Warbler's rehearsal space, repeating names in his head: Thad, David, Trent... He's not sure about the rest, and that's a little embarrassing. But he's sure he'll get it all right before the night is over. He's just still a little nervous, that's all.

In the common room, they are joined by a few of the guy's girlfriends and a few more boys – Blaine was telling the truth about this being a rather huge event.

“Warblers,” Wes calls as soon as everyone's in the room, jumps onto the back of a couch and raising his hands, waiting until everyone's eyes are fixed on him. “And guests,” he adds. “Are we all here? Is anyone missing?”

“Everyone present and accounted for,” Thad tells him, checking something off on an actual clipboard and Kurt has to bite back a chuckle – of course these boys have an official guest list for a karaoke sleepover. God, he loves this place already.

“Good,” Wes says. “Then let the party begin!”

There's some cheering that immediately cuts off when Wes lowers his hand, and Kurt nudges his shoulder against Blaine's. “Did you guys practice that?”

Blaine bites his lip. “Actually...”

“No way!”

“Wes likes things to be precise,” Blaine says.

Kurt sighs. “I _love_ this school.”

Blaine kisses his cheek and slides an arm around his waist.

“Now,” Wes continues his speech, and Kurt fully expects him to 'go over the rules' or something like that. Instead he says, “Since it is Warbler Blaine's first time bringing a date to one of our gatherings, I suggest we celebrate this special occasion by starting off the evening with his preferred warming up exercise. All in favor?”

Hands go up everywhere around the room, Blaine laughs loudly, and Kurt furrows his brow at him.

“What's about to happen?”

Blaine bounces a little on the heels of his feet as Trent makes his way over to a giant sound system that looks very similar to the one at Berrydance. “ _The floor is lava_!” he exclaims excitedly. “The dancing version!”

“Uh … what?”

Blaine caps his hands as the first sounds of _Bills Bills Bills_ fill the room, jumps onto the back of an armchair. “It's a dance party!” he shouts. “You're not allowed to touch the floor!”

“What happens if I touch the floor?” Kurt asks, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Blaine smirks at him. “You'll lose.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, grins, effortlessly hops up onto the nearest table and raises an eyebrow at Blaine. “I never lose.”

Blaine hops over to him, kisses his nose. “Well, you're a professional dancer. That's cheating.”

Kurt laughs out loud, almost doubling over with the force of it. “I assure you, I am nothing of the kind. I'm not even a _good_ dancer. I made my dance teacher cry a number of times, actually.”

“You teach dance!”

“Because Hiram and LeRoy have known me forever and felt sorry for me!”

“You say you don't want compliments, but now you're just fishing,” Blaine says, waggling his eyebrows.

Kurt pokes him in the ribs. “Am not. Now. Is this a competition or what?”

“Oh, it is _on_ ,” Blaine tells him, and before Kurt knows what's happening is dipping him low, pressing a single firm kiss to his lips before pulling him up again, twirling out of his grasp.

Kurt tilts his head at him before risking a rather daring jump over to the back of the couch where Trent is dancing and singing along at the top of his lungs, and before long they're shouting the lyrics at each other, mirroring each other's jazz hands.

Blaine laughs at him from the top of the piano across the room and mimics Kurt's shoulder shimmy, and Kurt laughs back at him, pleased when he sees Trent joining in their unofficial dance-off as well.

He's glad he decided to accept the invitation. The karaoke part of the night hasn't even started, but he can already tell that this is going to be _fun_.


	9. Chapter 9

The karaoke part of the evening turns out to be really fun even if it's nothing like the parties Kurt remembers with his own glee club friends from a few years ago.

The New Directions had wrestled each other for the mic, fought over whose turn it was next, got into screaming matches over song selection. He has a vivid memory of Puck and Finn getting into a fist fight over some Eagles song.

The Warblers are nothing like that. They have a sign-up sheet that Thad carries around on his clipboard and once you've had a turn you have to wait for at least five songs before you're considered for another one. Song selection is a calm affair – if two or more Warblers request the same song they just have to perform it together.

“This is incredible,” Kurt tells Blaine, leaning his head against his shoulder where they're sitting on one of the sofas. “It's all so _civilized_. My friends from high school would have already bashed each other's heads in over some song at this point of the night.”

Blaine chuckles and kisses the back of Kurt's hand. “Being a Warbler is all about being part of the team,” he explains. “It's not so much about wanting to be in the spotlight, it's about playing nice and supporting each other so we can create something together.”

“How is this place real?” Kurt wants to know. “That would just never have worked at our school!”

“It doesn't always work here either,” Blaine admits. “But the council keeps us in order. They're doing a really good job with it too. And we still know how to have fun, I think.”

“Oh!” Kurt lifts his head to meet Blaine's eyes. “I wasn't being critical. I hope you know that. I'm just … amazed. I have never seen anything like this.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” Blaine says softly.

“I am,” Kurt assures him, smiling. “I'm very comfortable.”

“Warbler Blaine and guest Kurt,” Wes calls over to them, waving for them to get up. “You're up next!”

Blaine grins at Kurt, raising his eyebrows. “Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be,” Kurt tells him, laughing nervously.

“Come on.” Blaine kisses him quickly, then tugs him up off the sofa and over to the stage.

It's not even that he's really nervous. It's just that these are Blaine's best friends and he wants them to like him. Because he has a feeling he'll be seeing them again, if he stays with Blaine. And he has every intention of keeping Blaine by his side for as long as it is at all possible.

**

The party eventually turns a lot more party-like once the karaoke winds down – there's some booze that somebody smuggled in, there's dancing, and the noise level in the common room rises as people start chatting and laughing and a few of the boys and one girl engage in what looks like a rather athletic dance-off.

Kurt dances with Blaine for a while, enjoys not having to think about what he's doing for once. NYADA has taught him well and he has no problem with the simple steps he teaches the students at Berrydance, but it's a lot of fun just being able to bounce around and wiggle his shoulders to the beat of the music. Blaine grabs his hips and wiggles and shimmies right along with him and Kurt laughs, drapes his arms over his boyfriend's shoulders and just lets himself go.

He's been to a few parties in New York and has even let himself be dragged out to clubs on a few rare occasions, but it's not really his thing; this isn't something he's done a lot. And he's never regretted saying no to most bigger parties; he has fun nights with his friends on a regular basis: movie nights and karaoke and smaller parties at someone's apartment, things like that. But this, right now, with Blaine – this is fun. He likes dancing and he likes Blaine and he kind of likes all of Blaine's friends.

“Hey,” Blaine whispers in his ear between songs, taking Kurt's hand in his own. “You haven't seen the rest of the school yet. Want me to give you the grand tour?”

Kurt pulls back a little to nod enthusiastically. “Can we? I mean, yes, please, I'd love to!” It's the truth; this place is so beautiful and on top of that it just kind of makes him happy to think that in the future he'll be able to have a picture in his mind of this place where his boyfriend is spending most of his days.

“Of course,” Blaine says, grinning happily. “Come on!”

Blaine shows him some classrooms, another common room that apparently is his favorite for studying, a huge, ancient-looking library, and then even takes him out into the grounds where they walk between tall tress, holding hands the entire time, and Kurt can't stop grinning.

“Blaine,” he says. “Don't lie to me. This actually _is_ Hogwarts, isn't it?”

Blaine hums softly, tilts his head at Kurt, blinks his long lashes at him. Even in the soft light from the window behind them, they seem just unfairly long and thick and sometimes Kurt still can't believe how beautiful Blaine is.

“What if I said yes?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt feels his grin grow wider. “In that case I have to ask: what house are you in?”

Blaine looks almost offended. “Can't you guess?”

“Gryffindor?”

“Not quite.” Blaine shakes his head. “I'll have you know that I'm a proud Hufflepuff. But Gryffindor would be awesome because then we'd be in the same house!”

“You think I'd be a Gryffindor?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah, definitely.”

Kurt bites his lip, lowers his head, smiles even though he doesn't know if he agrees with Blaine. Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave? He doesn't feel brave. Not especially. Not when he still feels as if he's just avoiding dealing with the really difficult things in his life. He's always succeeded through stubbornness, but that's not the same as bravery, is it?

“I can definitely see you as a Hufflepuff,” he tells Blaine. “But I can see you as a Gryffindor just as well. Is there any such thing as a Gryffinpuff?”

Blaine laughs, slides his arms around Kurt's waist. He looks happy. “As long as we can still be dating, I don't care much what houses we're in, if I'm being honest.”

“I agree with you there,” Kurt tells him, wrapping his arms around Blaine's shoulders to pull him in for a kiss.

Blaine chases his lips when he tries to pull back and one kiss turns into two, Blaine's arms tightening around him, and Kurt feels so _hungry_ for him, has been feeling this way for days, he can't resist. He lets himself sink into the embrace, opens his mouth for Blaine, and suddenly they're making out behind one of the most prestigious schools in the state, and he's not even worried about anyone seeing them; not that there are many people here anyway other than the Warblers and their dates.

“I love kissing you,” Blaine breathes against his lips before diving back in to tug at his bottom lip with his teeth and Kurt can't stop the little whine that escapes his throat, fingers digging into the back of Blaine's shirt.

“Blaine,” he manages, presses closer. All points of contact between their bodies are sending humming, shivering waves of longing through him and he sighs. “Blaine.”

Blaine holds him closer and kisses him harder and Kurt clings to him and feels happy.

**

They rejoin the party eventually and sing another duet together (the Neon Trees' _Animal_ ), and then go back to dancing right there in the middle of Blaine's friends.

It's late by the time the party winds down and boys start spreading out across the room in their sleeping bags. Blaine secures them a spot on a soft rug behind the baby grand piano.

Kurt hasn't had a sleepover since senior year with Rachel and Mercedes, and he's never been to anything quite like this before – but he feels good about it; everyone has been so nice to him all night and this place is simply amazing and now he's stretched out on the floor next to his beautiful, adorable boyfriend who is looking at him with a lazy, sleepy smile on his gorgeous face.

They'd changed into their sweatpants and hoodies in one of the bathrooms, washed their faces side by side over the wide granite sinks, and now Kurt rolls over onto his side to face Blaine as Blaine does the same.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Blaine whispers back, shuffles a little closer and reaches for Kurt's hand, linking their fingers together tightly. “This is nice.”

“Yes, it is,” Kurt confirms.

“Thank you for staying,” Blaine says, kissing the back of Kurt's hand.

“Thank you for wanting me to stay,” Kurt says back, leaning in to nuzzle their faces together.

“Always,” Blaine whispers, and closes his eyes, long lashes brushing Kurt's cheek softly.

Kurt holds on to him and can't stop smiling as he slowly drifts off to sleep, surrounded by the hum of voices and soft singing that still surrounds them.

**

They're up early the next morning with bright morning light streaming in through the tall windows and boys humming and chattering all around them.

Kurt blinks his eyes open, squinting against the brightness, lips stretching into a smile as he's met with the sight of a sleep-rumpled and puffy-eyed Blaine who's just trying to free his arms from his sleeping bag.

“Morning,” Kurt says, voice still a little sleep rough, stretching his back, unable to look away from his boyfriend.

Blaine smiles back, rubs the corner of one eye and yawns openly. “Morning. Did you sleep okay?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Kurt admits. “Could have been a bit longer, though.”

Blaine nods, lets out a pleasurable groan as he rolls onto his back, stretches his arms above his head. “Definitely.”

“We'll just have to nap later.”

“When do you work today?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt shrugs. “Just two classes, at four and five. I have a little time.”

Blaine looks pleased. “Can I make you breakfast?”

Kurt blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

Blaine shrugs. “We could go out for coffee with these clowns,” he gestures at the room behind them, “Or you can come back to my place and I can make you waffles.”

“Will your parents be okay with that?”

“They're visiting my aunt in Toledo all weekend, actually. The house is mine.”

Kurt offers him a lazy smile, incredibly tempted by the thought of more time with Blaine before he has to be a responsible adult once more. “Waffles sound amazing.”

“Mmm.” Blaine leans in for a kiss, grinning at him. “If you're really nice to me, I'll even give you coffee.”

“Sounds even better,” Kurt says, kissing him back, nudging their noses together. “But what I actually really want is a shower. If I'm being quite honest. But if you just drop me off at my house, I could come over once I -”

“Don't be silly,” Blaine cuts him off, taking his hand again. “You can shower at my house.”

“Are you sure, because -”

“Please, Kurt,” Blaine says, pouting at him. “Don't send me home all by myself, I'll be so bored and lonely, I might cry!”

Kurt laughs, heart cartwheeling in his chest. “Fine. Okay. I don't want you to cry. I'll shower at your house if that's what it takes.”

“Yay,” Blaine says, enthusiastically kissing the side of his nose before struggling out of his sleeping bag. “Come on, let's go! I know a shortcut!”

**

At Blaine's house Kurt takes his time showering in Blaine's bathroom while Blaine takes a quick shower in his parents' bathroom and gets started on breakfast for the two of them.

It's a strange but exciting feeling to be here in Blaine's space, to use his shower, to dry his skin with the towel Blaine gave him that smells of the Anderson's laundry detergent. It feels as if they're sharing something, even if Blaine is all the way in the kitchen making waffles for them. This is still … intimate. And, Kurt realizes, another thing he has never done before – not like this at least.

He has dated, yes. He's had a boyfriend and occasionally showered at his place, but the only times he'd stayed over had been the very few times they'd had sex, and showering had been a necessity.

This morning, he could have gone another hour or so without showering. He has nothing to wash off. He hasn't had sex with Blaine.

He's showering in Blaine's bathroom because they've spent the night together, they had fun, so much fun, and because spending more time together is all he wants to do right now. Without separating for even the length of time it would take to go home and shower at his own place. That's how much he wants to be with Blaine.

And standing here in his shower and being surrounded by the scent of his soap and hair products and letting his eyes wander over the little bottles and tubes and tubs on the shelf by the sink – it feels so, so intimate, just being here.

It's different, he knows, because he's never been in love before. And he's in love with Blaine. He's so head over heels in love it makes him giddy, and all these intimate little details Blaine shares with him feel like a gift, and he can never get enough of them.

He puts his hoodie and sweatpants back on after his shower instead of the change of clothes he'd packed – if he plays his cards right maybe there could be cuddling after breakfast and that's more comfortable in softer pants.

Blaine is similarly dressed in Dalton gym clothes when Kurt enters the kitchen. The small room already smells deliciously of coffee and waffles. Blaine's hair is still wet and ridiculously curly without any product in it and Kurt can't help himself, he walks over there, wraps his arms around Blaine's waist from behind, and buries his face in the soft mass of hair.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Blaine says back, sounding amused as he covers Kurt's hands with his own. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“There's fruit,” Blaine tells him, lifting one of his hands to kiss his palm. “And I'm almost done here too.”

“You're amazing,” Kurt sighs, and kisses Blaine's neck before sitting down at the breakfast bar where Blaine has already set up a large plate with mango slices, grapes, and strawberries. “Best boyfriend ever,” Kurt tells him happily.

Blaine puts another waffle onto the already impressive pile, carries the entire stack over to put next to the fruit. “For you, anything.”

Kurt grabs a fistful of Dalton gym shirt to haul Blaine in for a hungry kiss before he lets him go to get the coffee pot. He just can't stop grinning. He's never felt this comfortable with someone before in his life.

**

Once they're done eating they retreat to Blaine's room where Blaine puts on some music and dances around in the space between his bed and the book shelf while Kurt stretches out on Blaine's soft mattress, groaning.

“How do you still have so much energy?”

“Sugar and caffeine,” Blaine informs him, twirling with his arms above his head.

“It's exhausting to just look at you,” Kurt tells him, laughing. “I'm just gonna take a nap.”

“No, Kurt, come on, you're a _dance teacher_ ,” Blaine whines, catching Kurt's hands and tugging. “Teach me to dance!”

“I'm off duty,” Kurt says, trying to pull his hands back, causing Blaine to overbalance and land on top off him with a yell.

“Hey!” Blaine exclaims, chuckling.

“No more dancing,” Kurt informs him, wrapping his arms and legs around him to keep him in place on top of him. “It's nap time now!”

“No, it's dancing time,” Blaine laughs, wriggling against him, arms flailing. “Let me go!”

“Nope, you're my blanket now, you stay right here,” Kurt insists, holding on to Blaine tightly.

“Fine,” Blaine gives in all of a sudden, and then just stops struggling and goes limp on top of him, pinning him to the bed with his entire weight.

“No!” Kurt bursts out giggling, doing his best to wriggle himself free or buck his hips to throw Blaine off. “No, you're heavy. Off! Get _off_ of me!”

“Not a chance,” Blaine informs him, eyes sparkling with mischief as he looks down at him. “I like this now. Deal with it.”

“I can't move!”

“You started it!”

“I don't know what I was thinking!”

“Do you want to know what I'm thinking right now?” Blaine asks.

“What?”

His grin turns soft, face lowering until his breath brushes Kurt's lips. “I'm thinking that I really want to kiss you.”

Kurt lifts his arms to wrap around Blaine's back again, nods once. “I'm thinking you really should do that, then.”

Blaine doesn't reply, instead lowers his face the last few inches and then they're kissing, kissing, bodies touching everywhere, and Kurt thinks nothing has ever felt better in his entire life.

He loses track of time, eyes closed, Blaine warm and solid on top of him, kissing him until the playlist from his laptop plays itself out, kissing him until his hands are in Kurt's hair, fingers massaging his scalp, Kurt's hands spread out over Blaine's warm back, one thumb brushing the naked skin just above the waistband of his pants where the shirt has ridden up.

It's not a conscious decision when he spreads his thighs, when Blaine slides between them so easily, Kurt's eyes squeezing shut as Blaine's lips kiss the edge of his jaw.

He expects it when Blaine lowers his hips, but still sucks in a sharp breath when he feels the impressive bulge in Blaine's pants press down against the equally noticeable bulge in his own pants.

“Oh,” Blaine moans, stills his movements, head dropping to Kurt's shoulder as he freezes for a moment.

“It's okay,” Kurt assures him. “If – um. If you want to. You – you can.”

“I -” Blaine slides his hands from Kurt's hair, slips them underneath his shoulders before lifting his head to meet his eyes, his own wide and suddenly unsure and so, so dark. “Kurt … I have never – I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Hey,” Kurt says, brings up one of his own hands to cup Blaine's cheek. “It's okay. You don't have to – We don't have to do anything. But – we can. Whatever you want, Blaine. I – whatever you want.”

Blaine nods, once, mouth opening and closing as if he's not quite sure what to say, fingers flexing against Kurt's shoulder blades.

“Kurt -” he says, voice a little shaky, hips bucking forward just once, an aborted little motion that's enough to make Kurt gasp with how good it feels, makes Blaine's breath shudder out of him as he moans. “Oh my god.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, tightening his hands in the back of Blaine's shirt. “Oh, yes -”

Blaine rocks down against him again, and again, and again, breathing heavily now and shaking a little in Kurt's arms as his hips settle into a careful but unmistakable rhythm.

“Is this,” he pants against Kurt's neck, “Is this – okay?”

“Feels amazing,” Kurt breathes, opening his thighs wider, rocking up against Blaine as his thrusts grow harder. “So good, Blaine, so – so _good_ , ahh -”

It feels incredible, and they haven't even taken any clothes off, but he's so hard, so desperate for more – more contact, more friction, more _Blaine_. He wants it to last, it feels so overwhelmingly good, but he's already getting close, the pressure building so quickly he knows he is shaking with the hot waves of arousal shivering through his body, more intense with each of Blaine's eager, unpracticed thrusts.

Blaine moans shakily as he rubs against him, hips snapping forward in an increasingly frantic rhythm.

“Oh,” Blaine pants, grinding down hard, adjusting his angle a little so he can thrust wider before he goes _wild_ on top of Kurt, rocking, rocking, rocking. “Kurt, _Kurt_ -”

Kurt can feel it building deep inside, spiraling higher and higher, and he knows he's making noises but he can't help it, clings to Blaine as he _throbs_ between his legs, so intense he can barely breathe.

“Blaine,” he manages around a moan, “oh _god_ Blaine, _Blaine_ -”

And then his eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open around a soundless scream, every muscle in his body tensing as he comes so _hard_ , pulsing and spilling and soaking the front of his sweatpants.

Blaine whines and rolls his hips and Kurt opens his eyes just in time to see Blaine come, holds him through his orgasm as Blaine trembles and bucks and pants on top of him through the waves of his own pleasure.

“Oh, wow,” Blaine gasps once he's caught his breath, face still hidden against Kurt's chest. “Oh my god.”

“That was amazing,” Kurt tells him, carding his fingers through Blaine's still loose curls.

“Yeah,” Blaine sighs, still not moving. “Kurt, that – that was _incredible_. I had _no idea_ -”

“We're doing that again,” Kurt decides, chuckling happily. “Right?”

Blaine finally lifts his head, smiling down at Kurt, and he looks so _delighted_ it makes Kurt's heart jump in his chest. “I would love to do that again with you,” he says. “A lot of other stuff too.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, lifts a hand to cup the back of Blaine's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. “You're amazing.”

“I need another shower,” Blaine says against his lips, but makes no move to get up.

Kurt makes a face, nods. “Yeah, same. And – I guess I need to borrow some underwear, if that's okay?”

“In a minute,” Blaine decides, keeps kissing him instead.

Kurt kisses him back, body still thrumming with the thrill of a truly fantastic orgasm, and feels perfectly content and happy. He feels like that a lot when Blaine is around.

**

They spend the day in Blaine's house until Kurt has to get ready for work. They watch TV for a bit, spend some time out on the porch drinking coffee and talking, even spend a little bit of time making out on the couch before Kurt has to get going.

“I'll drop you off at home so you can get changed,” Blaine says, kissing the skin under his eye before helping him up off the couch.

“Thanks,” Kurt says, tilts his head at him, thinking. He's a little impatient to get home now, to check on his family before he has to run out again. It also occurs to him, though, that he's actually managed to have a really nice day for once without vibrating out of his skin with fear, expecting something to go wrong, always waiting for the worst to happen at any moment. “I just – what are you doing later?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Nothing much, I guess. My parents won't be back until tomorrow. Maybe I'll use the time to play the piano really late.” He laughs.

“You should come over for dinner,” Kurt suggests calmly. “With my family.”

Blaine takes his hand, smiles softly. “I'll be okay, Kurt.”

“I know,” Kurt assures him. “Come over anyway. If you want to. My dad likes you. So does Carole. And -” he blushes, lowers his head so he can blink up at Blaine. “You know that I kind of like you too, right?”

Blaine grins, takes a step closer. “Oh really? I kind of like you too, you know?”

“Well, doesn't that just work out great,” Kurt says, beaming at him before closing his eyes as Blaine leans up to kiss him.

**

Blaine does come over for dinner that night and Kurt kind of hopes he'll be able to talk him into staying the night – if the way Blaine greeted him by the door was any indication, that shouldn't really be too difficult.

They sit in the living room after dinner and he listens to Blaine and his dad talking about football and it's kind of nice, the way they just _talk_ – Blaine never acts as if Burt might fall over and die the next minute and, Kurt realizes, a lot of people do that. A lot of people treat his dad like something fragile all of a sudden, but with Blaine, it's just conversation; they talk and laugh and make fun of each other's opinions, all while Blaine is holding Kurt's hand on the couch cushion between them.

And maybe, he thinks, it's possible to have this: maybe he can take care of his family and still have Blaine. Maybe he can be scared for his dad and still have things for himself that make him feel good. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person to be so unbelievably, blissfully happy sometimes even when there is so much to be worried about.

He does worry. Even tonight. He can't not; it's his _dad_ , and Kurt knows that even if the doctors are optimistic now, bad stuff can still happen. He knows that all of this isn't over. He'd believed that once before when he was sixteen, and then there had been another heart attack and now this latest scare and his dad is not a healthy man; Kurt knows he'll always be worried about him and he has a really good reason for it too.

But his life is more than all of this, more than the worry, more than everything that can potentially go wrong. His dad's life is a lot more than all of this too, isn't it? Otherwise, what's even the point of it? 

None of this is easy, but at least none of them have to be alone when they get scared. And Kurt knows how lucky that makes them, even in the midst of all this. They're a family. Of course he's back in Ohio to be there for them right now. This is what they do for each other. This is what any of them would do for him too.

Right now, he's sitting here with his dad and his boyfriend and Carole and they're talking and laughing and it's been a good day. With everything else going on in their lives, today has been a good day.

He squeezes Blaine's hand a little, rests his head on his warm, welcoming shoulder, and does his best to enjoy it. Today, it's easier than it has been in a long while.

Maybe he'll have days again when it's all too much. He'll feel so disconnected again, like he's not doing enough, like he doesn't have the faintest idea how to handle all of this.

Maybe that's okay. And he knows it won't feel okay on those days, but right here and right now, things are good. A few weeks ago, that was a lot more than he ever dared to hope for.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Blaine, who turns to look at him, confused.

“Hmm? For what?”

Kurt checks that his dad and Carole are distracted arguing about what movie they want to watch, and smiles at Blaine.

“Just – for being here. I know it's far less cool than a karaoke party.”

Blaine shakes his head. “Are you kidding? This is great. I love your family. And as an added bonus, I get to spend more time with you!”

Time, Kurt thinks. Sometimes the most precious thing you can give a person. He knows how much it is worth, knows the value of what Blaine is giving him, and he promises himself to always remember how much it means.

“You're wonderful,” he tells Blaine, and kisses him.

“Your father has despicable taste in movies,” Carole announces loudly. “What about Scrabble instead?”

Burt sighs deeply. “Not Monopoly?”

“No again,” Kurt groans. “Please! Anything but that!”

“Just because you always lose,” Burt teases him.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks. “How are you at Monopoly?”

“Not good,” Blaine says, eyes widening. “I once went bankrupt in under seven minutes. My brother still tells that story at family reunions.”

“Okay, fine.” Burt holds up both hands in defeat. “Get the Scrabble board.”

“Yay,” Kurt exclaims, and dances a little in his seat before jumping up to find the game. “I like this turn of events.”

He still loses to Blaine, but not as badly as his dad and Carole do. 

And once everyone else has gone to bed Blaine more than makes it up to him, and then even agrees to sleep over instead of going home that night.

“It's a good thing you're staying,” he tells Blaine, tangling their legs together under the covers once they're in bed. “That way we can finally get started on preparing your NYADA audition piece first thing I the morning.”

“Naturally that is my only reason for staying over,” Blaine confirms, fingers caressing the skin over Kurt's stomach.

Kurt grins, softly kissing Blaine's arm. “What other reason could there possibly be?”

“Hmm.” Blaine leans up to meet Kurt's eyes, smiling sleepily. “And to think that all I wanted was to learn how to dance.”

Kurt kisses him, then laughs as Blaine yawns loudly, hiding his face against the side of Kurt's neck.

“Sleep first,” he tells him, pressing his face into Blaine's curls. “We can dance in the morning. After coffee, of course.”

“Of course,” Blaine agrees, and Kurt can hear the smile in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This instalment of the fic is finished, but the 'verse is not closed - I like playing with the characters in this setting and I have a few more ideas. I just need to find the time to write them. For now, thank you all so much for reading!


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